Life's Stellar Hour
by Baylina
Summary: Ichimaru Gin was killed. So he believed. When he awakens due to the care of a pink-haired woman, and finds himself in the midst of a shinobi world war, he realizes things have gotten far more complicated. But is this fate's way of giving second chances?
1. An Hour's Awakening

**A/N: **Welcome to my attempt to write fanfiction. I don't actually like _Bleach_; I find it to be a cliché story with a bunch of cliché characters. And it _never_ ends. But I like Gin. A lot, actually. And I like Sakura. So I decided to stuff them together in a story and see whether or not they kill each other.

* * *

**An Hour's Awakening**

* * *

The errant storm does not ask many questions  
at life's crossroad.  
It's ultimately you who has to answer  
for yourself.

_-_Betti Alver, _Stellar Hour_

* * *

Ichimaru Gin wasn't a particularly noble man. Given that he had betrayed the Gotei 13 to follow Aizen into Hueco Mundo did not say much about his character. On the bright side, at least he had done it for a suitably decent cause. It had all been for Rangiku.

She just hadn't known it.

He didn't open his eyes quite yet. He wasn't sure it was a wise choice given that he was supposed to be dead. Was he in hell? Was he now to repent for his crimes for the rest of eternity? Eternity was a long damn time and he didn't relish the thought.

But as his senses became more aware, Gin realized that, well, quite frankly, it didn't _sound_ like he was in hell.

He opened his eyes, allowing the light to pass through them. They glittered in confusion, mirroring a sky on a cloudless day as they roamed over his surroundings. Nope, he decided, it didn't look like hell either.

So where was he?

The forest was dense, but filled with life. After living so long in Hueco Mundo, it was almost welcoming. There had been nothing but a void. Life, but life only after it had already died. But here…here it was different, he observed. Calls of birds ricocheted through the canopy of trees in an endless song; a stream trickled nearby, bubbling as it crawled over rocks and sand, carving a path towards some greater body of water.

The air was different as well, he realized. Though not like Soul Society, where it was heavily laden with spirit particles. Or like Hueco Mundo, where the endlessness seemed to have stopped all motion, all forms of true time. Here it was _alive_. Almost like the world of the living—the world of humanity.

That, he found, was a promising observation. But if that was the case, how did he come to be here?

He thought back, remembering Rangiku's tears, remembering her voice as it called to him, begging him not to die.

_Aizen…_ Aizen had killed him. Gin's plan had failed—the coup he had planned from the very beginning, since his childhood when he had found Rangiku lying hurt and beaten on the forest floor. He had promised to protect her from pain—to ensure she never had to cry again. But that had all gone to hell and back. If anything, he was the cause of all of her tears.

It came back to him now. Turning on Aizen, his mind made up. He didn't know if he would survive it, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Aizen had never known the true power of his bankai; surprise could be a valid ally, and though Aizen might have been aware of Gin's secret plot, he wasn't aware of just how Gin had planned to execute it.

But despite some amount of careful planning, things had gone awry. Aizen was too powerful; the hougyoku had become a catalyst for something unimaginable. And it hadn't helped that Aizen had held the trump card. There were things that apparently Gin hadn't known either.

First he'd lost his right arm, then his life. Once Aizen's zanpakutou slashed him from collarbone to hip, severing through all the important vitals like a butter knife, he didn't stand a chance. Death was a shocking feeling; at first it was painful, emotional. Gin didn't outwardly show what he felt, but at that point, the seriousness of death had knocked the smirk off his face and opened his eyes. It was all over, he had realized at some point, and surprisingly, he had felt real regret. What had he accomplished?

Nothing. Nothing but a severed arm and wounded pride. And death.

Speaking of arms, he'd completely forgotten about his. He wasn't in any pain, and therefore the state of his body was relatively unimportant. He wouldn't have been entirely surprised to look down and find that he didn't even have one anymore. He felt numb, weightless.

Hazarding a glance, he tilted his head slightly to get a better view and to see the damage of his body—assuming he still had one; the sound of movement buzzed in his ears and it took some effort to move at all.

"Th' hell?" He cursed aloud in surprise.

He looked like a mummy. At least the upper half did.

His torso was plastered with bandages that extended from his waistline to his neck, then onwards to his arm. It was tempting to move it—or what he thought _should _be his arm—but he figured that the bandages were probably there for good cause. Judging by their bulk, however, the severed appendage was reattached as it should be.

Well, clearly he hadn't made the injury up. That bit was comforting. Sanity and Gin weren't particularly close friends, but at least he had some notion of reality. So was he dreaming then? Hallucinating?

He closed his eyes again, deciding that it didn't matter either way. Wherever he was, it wasn't Soul Society or Karakura Town, or even Hueco Mundo. It was peaceful, so very peaceful. The birds, the trees, the mere weightlessness of feeling nothing. Though he still thought of Rangiku, she seemed more distant now; she was beyond a horizon that he could not quite reach—a veil he couldn't lift. But that, in truth, was nothing new. She had always been just out of grasp. Even though next to him all the while, through some parts of childhood and the Shinigami Academy, he had never been able to break through that barrier. He had always reached out to her, but never openly, never without reserves. He just didn't know how to live that way.

And so he had chosen this path. It suited him best. Gin could not stand at her side, knowing the culprit who had caused her pain in the past, and do nothing about it. He allowed her to believe that he had betrayed her, and it had made it that much easier to cut his ties in the end. To say farewell.

Or so that was his intention, anyway. He had wanted to protect her from afar—because he didn't know how to close the gap. Even Shinsou, his zanpakutou was like that, in a way. Always at a distance.

Thoughts continued to circulate through his head, but they were like leaves drifting on a river. Going forward with no particular destination, no particular goal. He was merely musing and remembering, but in his current state nothing was concrete, nothing was real enough to anchor him down.

_So this is peace?_

And finally, that mental drifting quieted and he descended effortlessly into oblivion, into a darkness that held no answer and no expectations, and in a lingering thought, he almost hoped that he never woke again.

* * *

Sakura knelt next to her patient, regarding him with a critical eye. _Breathing is normal. Pulse is stronger than date of discovery. _She placed a hand gently on his chest, closing her eyes. The tissue was still weak, but there was no longer any internal bleeding, and all of his organs were beginning to work properly. _Vitals are healing nicely_.

"Good!" She opened her eyes, feeling overwhelmed with relief.

The silver haired man slept on peacefully, unaware of her silent prodding. The pain medication was working wonders, and with luck, he might sleep on for quite some time.

His arm was next. After carefully inspecting the healing process with her chakra, scanning for any harmful bacteria that might cause infection, she deemed it safe enough to unwrap the bandages.

The arm was a sickly yellow color where Sakura had used sutures to connect the skin tissue. The tear—or cut—had gone straight through the bone, but after a long, arduous night of emergency surgery, she had managed to reconnect the ligaments. Then she'd had the tedious process of encouraging and strengthening the muscle tissues to unify at the point of amputation, using her chakra to heal the damage along the way. The hardest part, however, had been a battle with the nerve endings. Because of their minuteness, it was difficult to find all the damage.

Regardless, at the end of it all, she knew she had done what she could, though whether he would ever regain full use of his arm remained a rather tentative outcome.

After applying a topical anesthetic to his wounds and rewrapping them with fresh linen, she sat back, relieved. Without thinking, she removed the tie from her pink hair, allowing it to fall down to her shoulders. It felt much cleaner since her recent bath in the stream. At one point in her life, she might have complained about the constant state of her hygiene, but she was older now. Wiser, in a sense. And she didn't always have the luxury of a good bath.

Rarely did, in fact.

Not since the nations had fallen into the Fourth Great Shinobi World War. And not since she had joined the Twelve Guardian Ninja.

Sakura frowned, verdant eyes narrowing in quiet reflection.

The war was a strange one, unlike its predecessors. Of course, it had all the things associated with war: betrayal, blood, loss. But it was also unique in that it wasn't between the five kages. It was, this time, against the lesser nations—those who had fallen prey to the promises of Uchiha Madara. It might have been easier to crush, like crushing a rebellion, but Konoha was severely weakened. Everyone had had something taken from them by the Akatsuki, and ultimately, by Madara.

She thought of Konoha and wondered, vaguely, how her friends were doing. Though they crossed paths occasionally, it was usually on the battlefield where they were working to defend the Land of Fire's borders. There wasn't usually time for conversation. It left her feeling slightly outcasted, slightly alone.

But, that was of her own choice.

At first, she had declined the offer to join the entourage of the Fire Lord, but after Pain destroyed Konoha and she failed to kill Sasuke, she realized that she had to _do_ something. Something of her own accord. Something to prove that she could take matters into her own hands and bring about _change_.

After all, Naruto had always been noted for his charisma—his abilities to forcibly alter the path of fate. But each time Sakura tried to follow his example, it only seemed to fall to pieces; she became the thing in need of rescuing.

She was sick of being rescued.

Nara Shikamaru had been offered a position as well, before the war began, but he had politely declined. His strategic abilities and ingenuity had earned him a wide-ranging reputation, but something about Konoha pulled at him. It had demanded that he stay.

So she went in his stead.

On some days, she felt a twinge of honest guilt. She was one of Konoha's best medical-nin, having trained under the Hokage herself. But there were people who needed help everywhere, and just because she left Konoha didn't mean that she became any less busy.

At first, upon her arrival to the fortress of the Fire Daimyo, she had been among his personal guard. To prove her worth, she had worked long hours in the hospital, utilizing the extent of her healing skills for the citizens of the Fire Country. After a time, he took personal notice of her, and when a position became available, he promoted her to one of his elite guardians. One of the Twelve.

But there were days, days when she was alone, where she longed for Team 7, for the Rookie 9, and for home. It had been two years since she had confronted Sasuke, two years since he and Naruto fought…

_Get a grip Sakura! _she scolded herself. _You wanted this! Besides, things aren't the same anymore…things will—_

Her thoughts were interrupted when her patient suddenly stirred. In her day-dreaming she had almost forgotten that he was there.

"You're awake?" she asked cautiously.

* * *

Gin had a headache.

And he wasn't in a painless stupor anymore either. Yep, he thought, blinking slowly, the pain was most definitely real this time.

"Rangiku…" he murmured, wondering if the presence next to him was the woman he had dedicated some part of his life to avenging.

As his vision cleared, he caught side of pink hair and the contours of a woman's face. _Yachiru?_ An image of the small Shinigami entered his mind—her playful appearance, petite stature, and otherwise child-like attitude.

_Nope._ He realized his mistake almost immediately. _Definitely not._

He heard words, but they were fuzzy, almost incoherent. "Huh?"

"Are you awake?" the young woman asked again, reaching out to touch his forehead. "You aren't feverish. Do you understand me?"

Gin moved to sit up, coming to a form of painful coherence much quicker than was necessary. His head spun, but he pretended not to notice, and instead worked to focus on his rescuer. Her expression held a bit of worry, as well as wary scrutiny, as she supported him. Her eyes, a surprisingly bright green for a human, regarded him patiently, as if observing him for the first time.

"Yeah," he replied with only a hint of his usual sarcasm. "It seems so."

Sakura sighed, "You aren't ready to move yet."

Gin didn't say anything right away; he was taking in the entirety of his situation, the implausibility of it all. With a little effort, he resumed his normal appearance, narrowing his eyes into their fox-like squints and allowing his mouth to fall into a mocking, grim smile. "I'm assumin' this ain't Soul Society?"

"Soul Society?" Sakura questioned, a bit startled by the shifting in his nature. There weren't many words to describe the look he gave her, but unnerving was definitely one of them. It was like a snake staring down his prey right before closing its jaws over it. _A snake,_ she acknowledged, _like Orochimaru._

Her questioning response was answer enough. No this wasn't Soul Society. So if this wasn't Soul Society, it had to be Earth. Right? The girl certainly seemed human, though the fact that she had healed him so proficiently caused him to question her reiatsu. But that was a question for another time. He still needed to find his bearings, to learn just where this strange death had led him. "You're a human then?"

Sakura bit her lip to silence her retort. Wasn't she supposed to be the one asking the questions here? After all, she had _saved_ him; she had pulled an all-nighter trying to rescue his arm, expending every bit of her chakra for the procedure, and _this _was how he thanked her? Questioning her humanity?

"Of course I'm human, idiot!" She had to work to keep her temper in check, but Sakura had never been good at controlling it once it flared. "Monsters don't heal strangers found nearly-dead on the forest floor!"

It occurred to Gin that she had misinterpreted his question. "I didn't mean to make ya mad." He held up his hands in defeat and then mused, "This is gonna be a problem."

"A problem?" Sakura relented and her temper abated a bit; his response confused her. "Who are you?"

"Oh? Ya want my name?" The creases of his fake smile lengthened and Sakura almost shuddered in disgust. "It's Ichimaru Gin."

He didn't bother to ask for hers, and she was slightly insulted. _Fine!_ She thought irritably, _I just won't tell him._ In her anger, something else occurred to her. He had mentioned a woman's name before coming to full consciousness. "Who's Rangiku?"

Gin's smile faded, but he recovered before he could become too uncomfortable. He shrugged, "No one ya'd know."

"Well then," Sakura struggled to maintain her cool, "_why_ are you here?"

Remarkably, Gin had been wondering the exact same thing, and he wasn't entirely sure how to go about the answer. "I dunno," he contemplated, allowing the mockery to leave his features for a brief moment. "This ain't the place where I died."

Sakura brought her palm to her forehead in exasperation. Was he mad? "That's because you _didn't_ die."

"But I did!" Gin argued matter-of-factly. He had said his farewell to Rangiku, and then? And then Ichigo had arrived. Gin had then trusted Aizen's demise to the look in the human Shinigami's eyes—the look of calculated destruction—and released himself to death's call.

Only to awaken here… alive.

He couldn't explain that to this human girl though. She already believed him to be incompetent. Or crazy.

"Forget it," Sakura grumbled, tired of the ineptitude with which she was handling her patient. "You need to rest."

Was she going to learn _anything_ useful about this guy? She could imagine it all now. Returning to the Fire Lord—late no less than her intended arrival date—and explaining everything she had learned after scouting. _Yes, Fire Daimyo-sama, I healed a strange man along the border route, but I didn't learn a thing about him. _

What if he was an enemy? Or what if he simply couldn't remember where he was _because _he was a discarded spy? She couldn't just leave him here. _I'll take him back and leave him to the interrogation unit._ Let them play his little games. She wanted none of it.

She fumbled for her medical bag and began to fill a syringe as Gin watched with mild interest. "What's that for?"

"Sleeping," she replied curtly, her concentration on the task at hand. When the dose was measured to perfection, Sakura closed the vial, and pressed him back down against the cushion of forest leaves. He didn't argue; sitting up had been a bit taxing and he was admittedly fatigued. Besides, her no-nonsense look wasn't something he particularly cared to challenge.

The sting of the needle entering flesh quickly faded and the medication began to take effect almost immediately. This woman's skills were definitely first-rate, and in his half-stupor, he found himself admiring them.

"We'll talk more when you wake up," she told him, already dreading _that _conversation.

"Whatchyur name?" he managed to ask through closing lids, realizing that he hadn't learned it yet. The medication was a lull, it beckoned to him like a woman's song, clear and resolute in its determination, but he fought it for a moment longer. Long enough to hear her answer.

An answer that sounded all the worlds away.

"Haruno Sakura."

She watched sleep steal away his fake grin, replacing it with something that _almost_ looked pitiable, almost human.

She sighed.

It was going to be a very long day.


	2. The Hour of Insight

**A/N:** This chapter has been slightly edited. I have gone through and fixed some grammatical errors or any sentences that I found to be a bit awkward. If you find anything else that could use some reconsideration, please let me know. Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

**The Hour of Insight**

* * *

However long and dark the night may be,  
your forehead still will bear your name.

_-_Betti Alver, _Stellar Hour_

* * *

When Gin awoke, he was thankful to find Sakura suspiciously absent. The pink-haired medic was no different from any other woman he'd ever met. Pushy, demanding, easily enraged. Although, he mused, there were _some_ notable exceptions to the stereotype, they were, in essence, mostly just some hyped up or varied form of the afore mentioned list. Rangiku, for example, was more of the 'scratch my back and I'll scratch yours' kind of pushy. Give her persimmons and booze, and she was more than companionable.

He was thinking of her again. Perhaps it was the physical pain that pushed him to remember—the mere proof of his body's injuries. Maybe it was the fact that he was alive, in some form or another. But he had died for her. Everything he had done in his life, since the day they met, had been for _her_.

Gin wasn't foolish enough to lie to himself. He didn't like many people; he simply didn't _care_ about them. But she had been different. Pushy. Yes. Demanding. Always. But the way she looked at him when he followed Aizen to Hueco Mundo spoke of something deeper. Even after he had supposedly betrayed her, she had clearly held onto some notion of hope—some faint belief that perhaps he was really the Gin she believed him to be.

And, in some comforting way, at least before he died, he had been able to prove her right.

_Ya have other things to be worryin' about,_ he reminded himself, shoving Rangiku from his mind or, at the very least, to a darker corner of it.

He didn't know how long he had slept—the sun was at an angle that suggested it would set relatively soon—but at least he was thinking clearer now.

Which was, he decided, not as welcome as he originally imagined.

Earlier that day he had noticed that the world felt different. But now he understood why. This world _was _different. This was nothing like the human world he once protected in Soul Society. All beings, including humans, should have reiryoku, or spiritual power, but he couldn't sense a thing here. Not even his own.

Usually there were spirit particles in the environment as well, especially this close to nature, but as he scanned his surroundings, he could find nothing that resembled the familiar feeling of reishi.

He frowned, perplexed by this discovery. Mostly because it didn't make any sense. This place was walking with life, but he couldn't _feel_ it. He felt suddenly deafened, shut out of a world that he'd never really realized he was a part of until he was standing on the outside and looking in. There were noises in every direction, filling the forest with sound, but without the touch of spirit particles, it seemed as if he was only receiving a part of the song.

Humans led fleeting lives; they didn't live long enough to learn to _hear _and _see_ the things beyond the tangible. They were blind, in a sense, to the things that really made life _live_.

But he couldn't see it anymore either.

What if he had lost his Shinigami abilities after his death?

But if he _had _then that meant that…

_Shinsou!_ Gin glanced around for his zanpakutou, startling himself when he felt a twinge of worry. It wasn't like him to stress over situations, even negative ones. But this was different. This wasn't a matter of life or death. This was a matter of existence—of _his _existence.

The wakizashi was lying next to Sakura's medical bag just out of reach. He half dragged himself towards it, stretching his sinewy arm to grab the hilt.

_This ain't good._ His face held none of its snake-like attributes; he was all seriousness now. He opened his eyes so that the blue of the irises was visible, observing the sharpness of the blade, the perfection of the handle. But the zanpakutou itself felt empty, soulless.

Gin pulled himself into a sitting position, crossing his legs, and placed Shinsou horizontally across his lap. This was the normal way for communication with a zanpakutou—a road to truly seeing the heart of one's soul. Closing his eyes, he forced his mind to lapse into silence; given his situation, it proved no easy task, but with some work, he managed to find something resembling meditation.

He waited, silently calling the name of his zanpakutou. But there was no answer, no life. Shinsou was an entity that represented the very nature of himself; it was a part of him. When he had died, so did it. But though Gin had been revived, the zanpakutou was unable to follow him here, he realized; his Shinigami soul did not return. Whatever changes had occurred, whoever he was now, it was not the same as the Gin of Soul Society _or _Hueco Mundo.

But if he was alive and not a Shinigami, Hollow, or any other spiritual being, what _was _he?

The realization was almost too much. Even for him.

_Human_.

Humans, with the exception of Kurosaki Ichigo, did not have the ability to wield zanpakutou. There were humans, like Ichigo's friends, who had higher levels of spiritual power than average, but even they were limited. They could not obtain Shinigami powers.

Gin had never really found them to be impressive foes, though they tried often enough to intervene, to grow stronger, and to prove their worth. Until his death, he had only regarded Ichigo with disappointment. The kid had promise—he seemed to be ever full of surprises—but he was too emotional, wavering between all of his faulty human insecurities, and too attached to loyalties and friends.

Loyalty, as Gin had found—however twisted his had been—only got you killed.

_You've gotta be kiddin' me._ _Outta all the things…_

Human!

What the hell was he going to do? Wave around a dead sword? _Shinsou, ya useless bastard, _he grumbled mentally. _Leavin' me like this._

Gin looked up at the sound of crunching leaves to see Sakura emerge from the shadows of the trees. Almost instinctively, his face took up its usual sardonic grin, leaving little trace of his thoughts from the past few minutes.

"I caught some fish," Sakura said pleasantly, hoping for a better start to their conversation this time. She was trying very hard to look past the mere mockery of his gaze and that ever-present smile. "I figured we could ta—"

She raised a brow as he lifted his wakizashi, pointing the blade at her. Because of his injuries, she felt no fear of harm, nor did she get the impression that he intended to do anything of the sort, but the gesture wasn't entirely welcome. "What are you—?"

Much to her dismay, she didn't manage to get that sentence out either.

"I was right," Gin said, his smile spreading; the slits of his eyes followed suit. "I _did _die."

_Not this again. _Sakura let out a mental groan. She had hoped that they could move past the insanity. Because it seemed pointless to yet again point out the obvious—that he clearly had _not_ died—Sakura chose the next best thing. Silence.

Gin didn't seem to care. He continued regardless, his words easy-going and observational, "Ya see this," he waved the wakizashi for emphasis, "ain't answerin' me. It's like no one's home." He had the grace to ignore the slight twitch of her brow and the growing impatience on her features. "What I'm tryin' to tell you is…" The edges of his grin faded into something remotely neutral; if Sakura knew him better, she might have called it sorrow. "He's dead."

"Dead…" Sakura repeated, more for her sake than for his. She couldn't tell for sure, as he wasn't the easiest person to read, but Gin was—insomuch as he could be—being serious. This just kept getting better and better. "You're saying that it was alive?"

"As alive as I was." He shrugged, lowering the wakizashi.

_Are. As alive as you _**are**. Sakura knew it'd be pointless to correct him, but she couldn't stop herself from doing it anyway. At least in her mind. Couldn't he give her a _little_ more credit?

She pondered his words for a moment, looking past all of the improbabilities, and opening her thoughts to the possibility. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen her fair share of strange and implausible occurrences in the past several years of being a kunoichi. In fact, when looking back, Gin was relatively normal compared to some things she had witnessed. Well, maybe normal was a bit of an understatement. But in reality, he could very well have a conceivable explanation for it all.

_Open your mind a little_, she scolded herself yet again. Just because she found him weird, and a bit disgruntling, didn't mean he was lying. Who really had the time to make up crap like that these days? Besides, the late Hoshigaki Kisame had carried the sword Samehada, which literally had a life of its own. No one had tried denying its sentience. Granted its capacity to think and understand was limited, but it had an appetite for chakra—it _liked_ to eat it. The sword even liked the person it was with so long as the person fed it. All of that was personifying the sword, but really, there wasn't any other way to describe it.

Sakura sighed, breathing deeply to calm her nerves; she didn't doubt that she was going to need them all before the end of the night. "All right," she began, steeling herself for the next part, the fish now forgotten, "could you _please_ explain as much as you can?"

Gin grinned and she cringed. "Seems like you're th' only one gettin' to ask questions here."

Oh, she was indeed going to need her nerves for this. And then some. "What do you want to know then?"

Resting his uninjured elbow on his left knee, Gin assumed an entirely placid expression, "Dunno. Prob'ly the same thing as you." He thought about it for a moment, "How'd ya heal me if you didn't revive me?"

As that seemed to be a rather important question, Sakura decided it was well worth giving her best answer.

"Well, it wasn't easy," she admitted. "You were in critical condition when I found you. There was, of course, the large gash across your torso; I deduced it was a sword wound, though it's possibly the worst I've seen, and I managed to heal most of your organs with chakra. At first I only did what was necessary to prevent death, in order to conserve my chakra stores, but I've been rehabilitating it a bit more each time I replace the bandages."

Gin wasn't smiling anymore, and Sakura realized that he was actually listening, hanging on to each word as he tried to piece something together in his mind. When she mentioned chakra, evident curiosity swept into a frown of concentration.

_He doesn't know what chakra is?_ That was puzzling.

But he didn't ask and so she continued, slowing to watch him closer, "Your arm was trickiest. The surgery itself took hours. I don't know, even now, how well it will work when it's healed fully, but if anything, you should have _some _use of it."

She could have given him all the technical terms, the step-by-step process, but Sakura knew he wouldn't care. From the looks of things, she had answered his question. Or created new questions. She got the impression that there would be quite a bit of that before they reached a logical conclusion—or any conclusion at all. It depended entirely on his cooperation and she wasn't going to hold her breath for it.

"Chakra's an energy which can be utilized outside th' body?" Gin caught on quickly. He hadn't graduated in one year from the Shinigami Academy on talent alone. He considered the idea. Since when had humans ever had this kind of power? She acted as if it was second nature, a normal occurrence.

Sakura cleared her throat; she had always been good at instructing others in the textbook part of ninja training. She was top of the class, next to Sasuke, when it came to understanding the principles behind jutsu. "There are different kinds of chakra, but in essence, every living thing creates it and needs it to live. The basic form is the physical energy in the body, found in all the cells, but there is also a spiritual energy that comes from outside the tangible being. The spiritual energy increases with hard work and training." She stopped long enough to check that he was following her thus far. When he didn't intervene, she hurried on. "When a person mixes the physical and spiritual chakras, he or she can mold it with the chakra circulatory system, which flows throughout the body, and control it to attack, to defend, or, in my case, to heal."

Clearly, it was more complicated than that. Gin knew that much without her having to inform him. But it was enough, at that point, to sate his interest. He could draw his own conclusions from there. This chakra, as she called it, was like reiryoku in that it sustained life; it could even plausibly be the same thing, but he sensed the differences.

Even if he didn't have Shinigami powers, he could tell that the two energies did not exist on the same principles. Spirit power had always manifested strongly in beings of a celestial and otherworldly nature, but chakra seemed entirely human, having its basis in the physicality of the earth and the essence of humanity itself—emotions, thoughts, desires. While spirit power had remained largely intangible, occasionally becoming something physical through the wielder's will, chakra, though unseen to the naked eye, was grounded in tangible things; it had roots in the living.

Yes, on the surface, Gin mused, both energies were entirely similar, but the subtle difference placed them in different planes. If both worlds were to collide, they would be incompatible.

But, Gin hadn't been meant for this world; he had been among spiritual beings—beings made from spirit particles—and bathed in a life that was living, but never truly alive. At least in the human sense of the word alive. It didn't make a whole lot of sense to compare life and death between the truly alive and the semi-alive, he reasoned, now that he was thinking about it. He had died in his world, but it hadn't been death in the sense of the body. Death as a Shinigami or a Hollow meant an absence of existence, an absence of a soul. It meant forfeiting one's entirety of _being_.

At least that was the general consensus. His current predicament didn't quite match up with that ideal, but he was willing to believe that he might be an extenuating circumstance.

Sakura got the eerie feeling that he understood something of what she had said in an entirely different manner. In a way that possibly exceeded the best explanation that she could have given. This was both unnerving and impressive, and she was half-tempted to ask what he made of it all.

"Do all humans use this… chakra?" Gin asked, finally, wondering to what extent they utilized this energy and in what ways.

"No," the medic-nin shook her head, choosing to overlook his loose interpretation of the word 'humans', "those trained to mold it are called shinobi—or ninja. We are the military force of our country and each country has a hidden village where we are trained." Then she added as an afterthought, "There are normal everyday citizens living there as well, of course."

Ninja? If Gin wasn't well versed in schooling his expressions, or at least in keeping it consistent, he might have shown some surprise at this revelation. In just what age had he landed himself?

It was just getting worse and worse, he mused.

However, Gin decided it might be haphazard to voice his opinion on this matter and for once he held his tongue. He decided to figure out his location in this new world instead, "What country's this?"

"The Land of Fire," Sakura said proudly. Home was home, after all. "And the Hidden Village is Konoha."

Humans had a weird thing about names. They weren't terribly creative and they didn't always make a whole lot of sense. The Land of Fire was almost as bad as Karakura Town. But then again, he was from a place called Soul Society, so he wasn't sure he was entirely justified in his thinking. Maybe names in general were just one of those necessary evils.

But regardless of names, location, or even the time-period, Gin realized he wasn't going to get any more answers until he saw everything firsthand. This, he decided, was one of those things that he was going to have to judge for himself.

_Rangiku_, he thought with something that drifted uncannily close to dismay, _I think I'm in hell after all._

* * *

Wrapping her mind around Ichimaru Gin, Sakura decided, was about as difficult as reattaching his severed arm. Once it was her turn, the questioning, as she had predicted, was going in about every direction _but _forward. Even after utilizing all of her ninja training, she still couldn't get a straight answer out of the guy. "So you're trying to tell me that you come from a…land…called Soul Society?"

Gin was clearly bored with the conversation. After making him repeat it three different times, the medic-nin was now taking the liberty of repeating it for him. "Sorta."

"Sort of!" Sakura clenched her fists. "That isn't what you said last time!"

He didn't look the least bit remorseful, "Well, I dunno if land is th' right word for it."

She bit her lip to avoid the rather impudent remark that was on the verge of escaping, and with a bit of work, she managed to sound semi-pleasant. But the sarcasm was inevitable. "Then, please, do enlighten me."

"B'lieve me," Gin leaned back lazily and looked towards the sky, now dotted with stars," I've been tryin', but it just ain't possible. I can't explain it to ya any better than this."

"What? It's just floating in the clouds?"

"Kinda."

"Like a heaven."

"Humans've been known to call it that."

"So you're not human?"

"I wasn't." He had answered that question already too, but it hadn't seemed to register. "But I might be now."

"You lived in this Soul Society for over a century?"

"That's what I told ya, wasn't it?"

Sakura chose to ignore the rude commentary. _Pick your battles, _she reminded herself. "And when you…died?"

The ever-present smirk on Gin's face widened into a fanged grin. Just watching Sakura struggle to make some sense to his story made for a thoroughly enjoyable spectacle. And at the very least, it eased the pain of constant repetition.

"I ended up here."

"And your sword was a part of you? A part of your soul? With a name, a personality, and an appearance? And it died too. Except it wasn't revived."

"Sounds 'bout right."

Sakura let out a huff, defeated. "I give up."

She didn't even have the energy to expend on anger or irritation. What she had hoped would be a plausible story ended up nothing more than a fairy tale. It was as if he plucked it right out of a screenplay and was using it to toy with her. Was this someone's cruel joke? The world's way of telling her that she should have stayed in Konoha?

It just didn't sound believable. The fact that Madara had managed to transcend the element of time hadn't made sense. Nor had the way that Orochimaru used his jutsu to switch bodies. There were members of Akatsuki who had forged a bridge that arched over the normalcy of humanity and devoured on the monstrosity and darkness of human nature. But they had all sacrificed something. In the end, total immortality was beyond the reach of humankind.

However, Gin wasn't one of these people. He wasn't evil. At least not in her sense of the word. She didn't like him and she suspected he probably hadn't been well-liked elsewhere, but he wasn't what she would deem to be a 'monster'. His claims suggested immortality. But then again, she was assuming immortality through mortal understanding of such a concept. She was assuming that he was immortal to begin with, which didn't make sense given that he made such a scene about dying. In reality, then, what he was claiming had more to do with the soul. Aging had nothing to do with it. For all she knew, a soul _could_ age. The human souls were supposed to be immortal, right? Living on in some form of another?

Was that what he was getting at? Was he some sort of spirit then?

Her mouth fell open for likely the twentieth time that day and she almost had to shut it with her hands. Something clicked, all at once, like the closing of a gate.

"You—" Sakura could hardly find the words to begin. "You never told me what exactly you did in this Soul Society. I'm a kunoichi—a _human_ ninja fighting _human_ battles—but what…what were _you_?"

She asked him all the questions she thought were relevant to getting answers. Why he was here, how he came to arrive; she had even asked if he was human. But in all the explanations, when he deigned to give them in more than one or two words, he had never stated just_ what _he was doing in Soul Society.

Gin sat up straighter, observing her with a bit less boredom. So the wheels were finally turning in her brain? She was asking him directly. What had he been? Well, that was a rather open-ended question. He had been many things. A friend, a traitor, a sidekick, a killer, a leader. But in essence? He knew the answer she wanted.

"I was a Shinigami," he told her calmly, without overusing his informal speech. "A spirit of death. I was the Captain of my division and I had three duties. To protect Soul Society. To maintain th' balance between the living and th' dead—th' good souls and th' bad souls. And to—"

It was his turn to stop short. _And to kill Aizen._

"The problem's this," he reverted to his normal intonation. "You're seein' it all wrong. Lookin' at it like a human. Humans only understand what they see. But I'm tellin' you, I ain't a human. 'Least I wasn't. Shinigami are somethin' different—not alive in your range of comprehension, but not dead either. When we die, well, let's jus' say, for posterity's sake, that there's nothin' left of us. We disappear."

"And yet you're here."

"Yep," Gin agreed, "and yet I'm here."

He didn't bother to explain the concept of souls. That was an entirely different subject.

Sakura was silent for a measurable length of time, thinking it over, turning it around in her mind. "What were you protecting Soul Society from?"

But, alas, it didn't seem like he was going to get to avoid the explanations. "Jus' as you've got bad people, we've got bad souls."

He hadn't been much of a good soul himself.

"Then, hypothetically, if what you're saying is true," Sakura began, tucking a stray strand of pink hair behind her ears in thought, "if one of the bad shinobi I killed became a soul, it would go to some other world—for bad souls?"

Gin nearly grimaced; her attempted explanation was elementary; it was entirely too simple. But, he decided it would have to do. "Somethin' like that."

The bad soul would just be devoid of everything, hungering for nothing but other souls to ease the pain of its own torment, a true monster in body and mind. Always searching for power, for control. For a greater existence.

But he chose to leave that part out.

Sakura didn't know what more to say. No amount of ninja experience could have prepared her for this loophole. Or for Ichimaru Gin. He remained a large mystery. But it was clear, and she could no longer deny this, that he was something more than human. Something beyond the ninja world completely.

The Fire Daimyo was going to hang her.

How was she to take him back? His mocking politeness would only enrage the Daimyo, and then what? Execution? Exile? What was Gin really going to do in a land of warring ninja? A human world of shinobi of which he had no concept? He didn't even know how to mold chakra. How would he defend himself? She figured that the death of the wakizashi he carried had meant something beyond the death of his soul—of himself. He had said himself, more of less, that he thought he was human now. It was probably safe to assume that he no longer had his original abilities, whatever they happened to be.

_It's a dream_, she decided. _I'll wake up after having fallen asleep on the forest floor, and this will all be one of those strange nightmares. _

"So how long do I gotta stay like this?" Gin asked, shattering her hopes. Really, how often did one _hope_ for nightmares?

"Until I say so," Sakura snapped, falling back into her mood. She was tired and hungry, and knew she wouldn't be able to handle him for another minute without pummeling him. She stood, suddenly angry. Angry that she had fallen into a badly written horror story. War was horror. But this? This made the war seem like the fairy tale. At least war made sense. It was brutal and bloody, but it was _real_.

He was claiming to be a former spirit. What the hell was she to make of that?

"I'm going to bed." She needed to be alone and sort her thoughts. She gave him one last look, feeling guilty for her anger. He was still injured after all, and surely this was just as hard for him—even if he didn't show it. "You should be able to move around tomorrow."

Gin watched Sakura go, his face impassive. When all traces of her disappeared, he reclined, tucking his one good arm behind his head, and gazed up at the moon through the branches. It reminded him of the moon in Hueco Mundo—always watching, always looming. He shut his eyes to block the sight of it; he wanted no reminders. Not tonight.

_Rangiku,_ _it ain't a question anymore._ He imagined her standing there, listening. Perhaps even pitying him._ I'm definitely in hell._


	3. The Hour of the Leaf

**A/N: **I have revised some mistakes in this chapter-grammatical or otherwise. I still feel like something is missing, but alas, it will have to do.

* * *

**The Hour of the Leaf**

* * *

Even a leaf follows the light, then falls  
with others. Still alone.

_-_Betti Alver, _Stellar Hour_

* * *

"I've decided not to mention you to the Fire Daimyo," Sakura told Gin as they walked through the forest. Gin was actually limping slightly.

He shrugged, "Thought he's suppos't t' fry your ass for bein' late?"

"I'll tell him I had to tend to wounds." It wouldn't be a total lie. "I've already sent a missive to let him know that I'm just late. Not dead. Seeing as he hasn't sent one of the other Twelve out after me means either that he doesn't care or he's too busy to deal with me right now."

Sakura glanced sideways at Gin; he was looking straight ahead, his features unreadable. "I'm delivering you to the nearest village. Someone will have the necessary skills to ensure that your wounds heal properly."

"You're dumpin' me off in the middle of nowhere?" He didn't seem overly concerned, but Sakura couldn't be sure that there wasn't an underhanded accusation lingering beneath the surface.

"What else can I do? If I take you back to the Fire Daimyo then one of three things will happen." She lifted a finger, "One: you get killed for being rude. Two: you get thrown out of the Land of Fire for being an ass. Three: I get thrown out in your stead because I had the audacity to bring you around." Sakura lowered her hand, slowing her step, "No matter how I look at it, it just won't end well for either of us."

"Ya know, I was in a position of some importance in Soul Society." Gin stated.

"And you died."

Gin grinned, "Ah, yah. 'Cept it wasn't 'cause I pissed the higher ups off. 'Less ya count Aizen. But he wasn't to good 'imself."

"My point."

"People actually look'd up t' me." He thought of Kira and managed not to grimace.

Sakura mused over his counter. Was he saying that he could behave in front of the Fire Daimyo? That he was capable of being on his best behavior? Though he wasn't necessarily _pleasant_ per se, his conversation thus far had been tolerable, even enlightening. Meaning she hadn't yet found the urge to throw him in a river. Or punch him into one.

But that didn't mean it would last.

She thought of Konoha. What if she took Gin there? Tsunade might not like it—with all the other problems at hand—but she might at least know what to do with him. And it wouldn't be "the middle of nowhere" as Gin had put it. Sakura had friends there.

_But that will be even further out of the way…_ She sighed mentally, not wishing to alert Gin to her thoughts. What if she visited the Fire Daimyo first, then took some leave time? _Hah! As if he's going to give me time off during a war!_

Then perhaps if she made it a part of an important mission? Surely she could finagle something…

"That's it!" Sakura stopped short as an idea struck her.

"What's what?"

"I know what to do!"

Gin took a step back, "You're smilin'." He tilted his head thoughtfully, wondering briefly if he had even seen her smile before. When she shed some of her worry—or anger—Sakura lit up like a new person, as if she could shine just by freeing herself of her burdens. Gin felt himself thrown off by this change, "Should I be afraid?"

She shook her head, pleased with herself, "No, no. It's nothing bad. Well—" For a moment, she hesitated, "—nothing bad for you, at the very least."

"And for you?"

"I might have to tweak my story a bit," Sakura admitted, trying to hide her blush. She always valued honesty, especially in herself, but in such a strange situation, what was she to do? "The Hokage—that's the leader of Konoha—is an esteemed medic-nin throughout the Land of Fire. I think, maybe, it would be best if I took you to her."

Gin raised a brow, "Ya don't think I'm gonna insult her somehow?"

Sakura shrugged, "If you do, I won't be the one responsible for trying to piece you together again. Tsunade-sama has quite a temper."

Wisely choosing to ignore her comment, Gin reverted the subject back to its original track, "So what's this 'bout tweakin' a story?"

"Don't worry about it." Sakura didn't need to disclose her plan just yet. She wanted to make sure it would work first. "I'll tell you later."

* * *

They stopped for a bit at a river to rest. Sakura noticed Gin's labored breathing and chose to act on it. She couldn't over work her patient on the first day. He had been surprisingly quiet and if he was suffering, he didn't let her know it. But she was a medic-nin and she knew the symptoms of fatigue.

"Konoha is southeast of here," Sakura told him as she splashed water on her face. "There is a rock formation at the back of the village with the faces of all the Hokages carved into it. An invisible shield surrounds it and is monitored at all times in case of invasion. If you enter without me, there might be questions."

"The barrier notes chakra, right?" Gin discerned easily. "Then you are assuming that I have chakra worth noticing."

Sakura blinked, realizing that he was right. She didn't sense anything special about Gin, meaning that passing through the barrier wouldn't raise any concern with the guards. That would be even better.

She moved over to him, eyeing his arm. "I best look at that."

He didn't object when she undid the bandage and used a bit more chakra to heal it. The pain had dulled with her past efforts over the last two days, and with each healing, he felt more and more alive in this world. He still couldn't sense any spirit power—within himself or Shinsou—but he sensed more of the world. Maybe that was all he needed really—something to wake him, to rouse him to reality.

"What happened?" Sakura could no longer contain her curiosity. "What did you do?"

Gin hadn't been looking at her, but when her voice broke the surface with those questions, he couldn't help but turn the force of his fox-like gaze upon her.

"It's a very long story," he grinned. "No need t' bore ya."

He saw her brow furrow and he thought she might scold him, but Sakura bit her lip and turned away, determined not to press him.

"I could ask th' same to you, ya know."

Sakura turned back, confused, "About what?"

"This land…your Shinobi war…" Gin stood, "I died in a war, so t' say. All wars start the same way. You can prob'ly draw your own conclusions." He began to walk, southeast as she had previously stated. "Those who die in war are on th' wrong side."

"That's not—"

"True?" He laughed mockingly. "Of course it's gotta be true. I was always on th' wrong side."

"But it's not as simple as right or wrong; that—"

"I'm gonna leave ya sittin' there…"

Sakura realized he intended to move on without her and she felt her face flush in irritation. As she stalked after him, realizing that he had yet again managed to divert her attention from the conversation at hand, her temper flared into a quiet brooding. _Fine. I won't ask him any more questions. I won't even speak to him!_

And after an hour passed and Gin did not attempt to break the silence, Sakura became even angrier. Somehow, she knew he was merely toying with her. Testing her. Ichimaru Gin was using her as a source of personal amusement and she was falling straight into his trap.

But what trap? She realized how silly it all sounded in her head. What was she so paranoid about? What about him irked her so much? She was acting like a child, giving him the cold shoulder and pouting in silence. There had to be a better way to handle the situation, but no matter what approach she tried, he somehow turned it against her until she looked like a fool.

She could leave him in a village, as she had originally intended. Or, based on her previous instructions, it was entirely possible that Gin could make his own way to Konoha. But for some reason Sakura felt a sense of duty in taking him there herself. She felt it was necessary to explain his situation in her own words. She was _worried_, in a way, and she didn't like it.

* * *

Gin surveyed the country below the ledge, amazed at the scenery that had erupted on the outskirts of the forest. He had never seen anything like it. The human world had such things—the gaping valleys, the maws of ravines—but he hadn't ever noticed them in his short visits during his time as a Shinigami. He hadn't had the time. Which was a strange irony, considering he could have lived for centuries upon centuries. Had, in fact, lived for quite a while.

He sat down, crossing his legs and laying Shinsou in his lap, desperate to try calling his sword once more. A few minutes ticked by; he allowed the scene to carry his mind inwards to his core. But still, there was no response.

Gin didn't want to admit it, but he had retained some hope that perhaps Shinsou just needed time to come around. It appeared, however, that the sword really had died. So how had he managed to find some form of rebirth in this world. What did it all mean, in the end? What purpose did he serve in a world of warring ninjas? He leaned back lazily, _Very well, Shinsou…stay dead if ya want. _

He felt himself relax, thinking.

Sakura had fallen behind, insisting that she would only be a minute. It had, in fact, been several minutes, but Gin did not notice. She had seemed a bit antsy when she moved off into the shadows of the woods to—

Had she run off rummaging for food—or was it wood? He hadn't really been paying attention.

If he was honest, he didn't really care where she went, so long as she came back with something worthwhile. He was starving.

But it would have to wait—the food or wood or whatever Sakura would return with—though Gin didn't know it yet. Because it was creeping up on him. That timeless dawning of self-realization which all living things must eventually face.

From behind, an explosion of rock shook the foundations of the earth and rocked Gin right out of his reverie.

He sat up, tense, and waited. He knew that he was in no position to engage in battle. But what about Sakura? _Sakura!_ He had nearly forgotten about her.

With a little effort, he scrambled to his feet and began to backtrack through the woods. He kept his eyes alert for sudden movement, but Gin couldn't help but feel severely handicapped in this situation. He halfway considered calling out for Sakura, but if enemies were in the area, he wanted to take them by surprise. _Enemies?_ He stopped as the thought struck him. _I ain't gettin' involved with this._

He slowed his step and considered his options. He could continue on his way to Konoha and assume that Sakura would survive. Or he could proceed and possibly walk straight into an unnecessary battle. Or, it might not even be a battle at all, and he was simply paranoid.

This last thought caused him to stop moving entirely.

Was he afraid?

_Nah…that doesn't seem right t' me._

But it left him feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. He didn't have Shinsou anymore. His weapon and soul were connected within himself; they were, or had been, in essence, the same thing. His will to fight had stemmed from the will of his blade.

He had never hesitated in the face of battle; he had never panicked or shown concern of death. Not with Shinsou at his side. With his death though, with the death of his sword, had he lost that fighting spirit? That fearlessness and pride that accompanied a good fight?

He was disarmed in more than one way, he realized. And for the first time in a long time, Gin felt a sense of loss that trumped panic and fear. Gin felt that he truly had transformed. That he no longer had his soul. And he felt the burden of that loss as clearly as he saw through glass and air; it encompassed the entirety of his world like dead weight and lodged him firmly into the heart of earthly things. His celestial nature, his otherworldly association, was like a memory—like a ripple in time that had run straight into a rock.

Soul Society had never prepared him for change. Being in Hueco Mundo had not challenged the entirety of his selfhood. Even dying for Rangiku had not caused him to pause in wonder.

But this was new. This was new in the way that a child discovers fear.

Not wishing to fall prey to such anxieties, Gin plunged forward without thinking. He had always been calculating and collected in a sinister prophesizing way. It had never failed to frighten his opponents though most of them couldn't pinpoint just _why_ it scared them. Gin had that unnatural grin, that unreadable expression which threw off the flow of battle. It was not the face of a man in a fight; it was the face of a man who knew he would _win_ the fight without ever taking it seriously.

With the exception of Aizen, Gin had never let that façade fall away. But with Aizen, Gin had actually been serious.

_And it was the only time I failed…_

The trees passed quickly. As they thinned, Gin noticed the broken bark and fresh stumps. The cuts were relatively clean and the edges of the trees showed no signs of charring, so he got a sense that the explosion had just been damage from an attack and not so much from a fire. He wasn't sure he found that to be encouraging information.

But as he stepped from the trees into a crater, nearly losing his balance when the ground gave way beneath his feet, Gin felt his breath catch in surprise.

There were three enemies within his line of sight. Sakura stood in the middle of them, eyes blazing like grass lit by the moon, fists clenched, with a smile that radiated a challenge.

She wasn't going to go down without a fight; Gin knew this as he watched her. He was a seasoned veteran of battles, albeit ones of a bit different scale. But in all his days as a Shinigami, he had never seen such determination, such utterly human belief, as he did that day in Sakura.

With one exception.

At that moment, he thought of Kurosaki Ichigo.

And Ichimaru Gin finally felt that he understood.

* * *

Sakura hadn't expected the attack, but she had an idea that someone was following them. Gin didn't seem to be paying attention to his surroundings. And she figured that if he was this careless in his old world, then it wasn't any wonder that he had died.

She decided to leave him for a bit in order to scout out her surroundings. Within a few minutes, she had actually stumbled upon the first one by accident. A shinobi without a legible marking of origin. Sakura guessed he had defected, but it was possible that a country had hired him. It bothered her that she didn't know _who_, but, given the circumstances, she knew she would have to consider that later.

Luckily, he hadn't seen her coming. A kunai made quick work of him—silently too—so his five friends hadn't known that she was watching them.

The explosion, Gin would have been happy to know—if he was worried, that is—was of her own making. She had donned her protective gloves and cracked her knuckles, determined to take them all by surprise. There were two groups of two and then one that traveled slightly behind to guard the rear. With a bit of effort, she positioned herself at the right angle for a surprise attack and then proceeded to dive fist first into the first group. One connection and it was all over. The ground gave way beneath the impact of her chakra-imbued punch and they were crushed.

Unfortunately, that method had not been as quiet. The remaining three were quick to act and, within seconds, they surrounded her.

"Whose orders do you follow?" Sakura didn't expect an honest answer, but sometimes a shinobi made the mistake of leaking information when he believed he had the upper hand.

"None of your business, sweetheart." One of the men stepped forward with a smile, hands ready to mold chakra at the slightest hint that she might put up a fight.

How had the guys gotten past the border patrols? Or so close to Konoha? Surely security would be maximized around the village in times like these.

"We're going to need to take you back with us, though."

_Just a little closer, idiot._ Sakura focused chakra in her hands, using her exceptional chakra control to hold it just to the point of invisibility. When he was within striking distance, she was going to knock him straight to hell. "Back where?"

And then she heard the skidding of dirt and the crumbling of rocks.

They all glanced over to see Gin regain his balance and land a few meters off at the base of the crater.

"Oops," he said with a lazy grin, reaching up to scratch his head. "Didn't mean ta interrupt anythin'. I'll be on my way now…"

Sakura didn't even flinch. Even when Gin began to wander off without so much as a worrisome glance in her direction, she kept her temper in check.

But then Gin did something Sakura would never forget. He took a seat on a fallen log, amusement leaking into the sardonic squint of his eyes. "Actually," he said with feigned innocence, "I'd kinda like t' see this. If you don't mind."

At that point, she was almost certain that she was going to lose it. Didn't he care enough to help? She had thought him a bit heartless, but not _this_ heartless. In a fit of rage, Sakura struck out at the nearest shinobi. She felt strangely satisfied as she felt his jaw give way beneath the pressure of the punch; she felt even more satisfaction when she imagined it was Gin.

The other two found their bearings when their friend slammed into the ground next to them. When they looked up, catching the glittering fury in Sakura's gaze, they seemed to be debating possible escape routes. But they had some pride as men and losing to a woman wouldn't earn them a great reputation. Assuming they survived the tale.

One of them began forming seals. Sakura watched the seals, trying to place them to predict his movements. _Rat—Horse—Dog—Snake. _But he was surprisingly fast.

"Doton: Ganchūrō no Jutsu!"

Pillars of rock shot up from the earth, surrounding Sakura and caging her from within before she could leap to safety. Angrily, she struck out against the stone, using her chakra fists to smash through the one of the pillars. But they were thick, she noticed, and as soon as she destroyed one, another rose to take its place.

Not wishing to waste chakra, she paused to think through her next move.

"Ah, so this is chakra?" Gin limped towards the cage, ignoring the two shinobi on the outside and startling Sakura, once again, from her thoughts. "You call rocks outta the ground, huh?" He narrowed his eyes, then smiled another of his grins, "No, but that ain't quite it, is it?" This time he turned to acknowledge the one that had remained behind, "You're planning a follow up attack while she's trapped?"

He paused and glanced at Sakura, narrowing his eyes. "Ya mean ta tell me that you're really stuck in there? And I thought this might be interstin'. Ah well…"

Gin hesitated for a moment, his hand fingering the hilt of Shinsou. Did he dare to draw? _Well, I ain't gonna be callin' rocks outta the ground anytime soon, so might as well…_

Shinsou felt light in his hands. Comfortable. Even if the soul of the sword was missing, it was _still _a sword. Well, a wakizashi. A sharp one, at that.

He glanced at the rock pillars, studying them for a brief moment, and then let his mind do the math. Gin recalled the times when Shinsou had cut through more than a few flimsy stone pillars. It took a moment to remind himself that it wouldn't be like that this time. It was going to be manual labor, fair and square, not spiritual power.

Gin was about to swing when he felt the ground rumble beneath his feet. Determined not to end up like Sakura, he jumped into the air, skidding back a few paces when he landed just in time to watch new pillars emerge from the soil. "Now, now… that won't do."

Sakura watched quietly from her prison, taking it all in. Now he was interfering? Why? Had he really been watching all along out of curiosity? Just to see chakra at work?

Now that he was in battle, Gin moved fluidly, tied in place and time by the very nature of the fight. Sakura held no doubts that he knew what he was doing. But she didn't want him to save her, she realized, seconds later. He would never let her live it down.

_Oh hell no…_

"Damn it, Gin!" She let the remainder of her fury encompass her hands and, right as Gin prepared to charge one of _her_ opponents, Sakura sent a flurry of rocks raining down on their heads. She stepped out of her prison. "This is _my_ fight, thank you. I was doing just fine. "

Gin held up his hands in defeat and shrugged, assuming a face of innocence. "Fine, fine. If ya say so."

At this point, their two enemies had had enough. They charged the two, hoping to utilize their argument to catch them off guard. Sakura looked over, her temper already on edge, and Gin stepped back out of the way, sensing danger. "I'm just gonna go back to th'…"

An explosion cut out the last of his sentence, causing him to stop short as debris plastered the earth, rearranging the originally well-structured natural scene into something dismal. As the dust settled, Sakura stood triumphant with arms crossed, gazing straight at him and daring him to challenge her.

But whatever they had needed to prove had been proven.

Gin grinned, opening his eyes slightly, as he landed a safe distance away. This, he decided, was much more entertaining that anything in Soul Society had _ever _been.


	4. An Hour's Education

**A/N: **Welcome to yet another chapter of _Life's Stellar Hour._ The plot is starting to begin, so things are going to pick up the pace. Well, maybe. Happy reading!

* * *

**An Hour's Education**

* * *

You lack a splendid goal? Then simply go  
and learn how to consume!

_-_ Betti Alver, _Stellar Hour_

* * *

For as long as Sakura could remember, she had always had a goal. Not usually as grand as Naruto's or as dark as Sasuke's, but somewhere, somehow, she had wanted something. But it always ended up a little twisted, a little skewed, until before she knew it, she was completely off the right track. She ended up helping other shinobi to achieve their goals, leaving hers to fall to the wayside.

Leaving Konoha had bee her way to fix that, to find her own ninja way. Sarutobi Asuma-sensei, from what she had garnered through rumors, had done much the same thing when he was her age. He ran off because he felt overshadowed by the Hokage. It had become necessary for him, or else he feared he would never grow.

Sakura didn't feel that she needed to grow. That wasn't quite right. No, she wanted to breathe. She wanted a chance to do something for herself.

The war had dragged on, even after the presumed annihilation of Madara and his plan. Kabuto had had plans of his own when he teamed up with Konoha's old enemy. And between the two of them, they had successfully uprooted an entire continent of Shinobi. But they hadn't defeated them.

Now, the war was beginning to fizzle. There were still rogues and ambushes; there were evil men who took advantage of the weaknesses of the five great nations. But even Sakura sensed a death of motivation.

It was still dangerous to travel alone and shinobi still needed to patrol borders, but the casualties were dimming and negotiations were finally in progress. Sakura dared to hope that maybe—given a few months time—the war might finally come to a close.

But the advancement of the six shinobi that she had encountered, and their presence so far inland on the Fire Country's soil, unsettled her. Despite her attempts, she couldn't shake that persistent shadow of doubt, the fear that accompanied her when she was alone. Something must be coming.

She glanced at Gin, sitting against the trunk of a tree; he watched the fire quietly, scrutinizing it with a glare that would have had fangs, had he had any.

His presence unsettled her as well. For the hundredth time, she asked herself what he was doing in her world. Was it really a coincidence that she had found him? She wasn't so sure she believed that anything was a coincidence anymore, especially when it came to silver haired angels falling out of the sky.

And despite his arrival, she still didn't know anything about him. He only gave her an abbreviated version of his duties back in his home. He didn't specify. He had merely implied that he wasn't such a great person and, in the end, that he had probably deserved to die.

But if she believed him—that he _had_ died and been reborn into the shinobi—then he certainly had a reason to be here, didn't he?

Sakura had never believed in gods, but she was beginning to wonder if maybe a higher power might exist after all.

She turned to Gin, "You've been quiet lately."

He glanced at her, allowing his stare to resume its fox-like nonchalance, and smiled, "Ah, I s'pose I have."

"You're trying to piece together what you witnessed earlier, aren't you?" Sakura watched the flames swallow one another, listening as they fought in a flurry of crackles. "I'm talking about the chakra. I half expected you to have a bunch of questions."

"I did, at first," Gin leaned back on his good arm, letting his gaze trail the dark outlines of the trees, "but I understand it now. I just hadta think about it."

Sakura's eye widened, "What do you mean?"

"Chakra is simple," He began with a grin. "Based on your original explanations and then havin' seen it, I've gotta pretty good understandin' of how it works."

"S-simple?" she gasped, wanting to protest. Then she clamped her mouth shut.

He nodded, "Yep. Simple."

Then, he held up his free hand, looking at the lump of bandages that still enclosed it. "I got a feel for it back when you were fightin'. Now I know what I'm lookin' for. B'fore, I was searchin' for reiatsu, but it feels completely different. I feel kinda like I'm in a gigai, tryin' t'summon spirit particles. Nothin' reacts. But then, when I shed the skin, mentally of course, it's kinda like opening a door."

Sakura held up a hand, "You're not being clear. A gigai? And reiatsu? These are more terms from your world?"

Gin nodded, "Reiatsu is—was—the life force of my world. It was the source of my power. It too was in all living things, like your chakra, but most humans had no knowledge of its presence."

"There were exceptions?"

"I s'pose there's always exceptions," he replied, thinking specifically of Ichigo. A human who had taken the weapon of the divine—the otherworldly—and then surpassed them all.

"And a gigai?"

"That's th' term for a human body used by Shinigami so that we can take a form in th' human world."

Sakura leaned back on her hands, analyzing him. "So, now that you're looking for something different—something human—you sense more of our world?"

"Hmm…" Gin slowly stood up and Sakura watched his eyes narrow as he turned to a nearby tree. For a second, he merely looked at it, as if he might suddenly start up a conversation, but when Sakura looked closer, she could see that he was concentrating.

"What—?" Sakura watched him raise his good hand and make a fist. "Gin, what are you doing?"

But she failed to ask again as she realized that his hand was glowing a rich green. It was not too different from her healing chakra, she noted. However, this chakra was not there to grant life; Sakura could feel something entirely different radiating from it. _Why didn't I sense this before?_

"A man named Kurosaki Ichigo had so much reiatsu that it was always goin' sometimes, like a faucet that wouldn't turn off. Chakra's kinda like that as well. It can be contained or released at th' whim of the user—if the user has some concept of how it's done. Ya followin' me?"

"Of course," Sakura snorted, "it's called chakra control."

"Ya couldn't sense any chakra within me—at least nothin' special. But that's cause I hadn't turned it on." He gave her another one of his Gin-grins. "But after seein' your fight t'day, I've got a better understandin'."

Gin's chakra was not as powerful as Sakura's. He had yet to attain her precision with chakra control—or any control, really. And he was still getting accustomed to the feel of it. The way that it coursed through his body, pumping through his veins like a drug. He hadn't realized how much he missed the feeling of power. But this time, _this time_, he thought, he could bring something into fruition. He wasn't totally lost in this world, now that he had something to learn—something he could endeavor to master.

For the first time, Gin's smile lost its sarcasm. He failed to mask his true feelings—the happiness he felt at having finally made a step forward. He didn't know if it was a step towards recovery, but it didn't matter. He didn't care where he ended up.

_That's right. I've got nothin' left. It doesn't matter what I do. _And having acknowledged that fact, Gin struck out at the tree, letting his knuckles collide with the bark.

The tree didn't explode, as Sakura expected it might. But then again, that was only taking into account the force that she used when hitting trees. Generally, when she hit a tree, it didn't remain a tree.

Some of the bark crumbled at the impact, but the punch had had a quieter effect than either had suspected. Sakura felt herself take a step closer, but she halted warily when a slow creeping sizzle—like a low whine of pain—began to exude from the spot where Gin's fist still maintained contact. Something began to drip, and at first Sakura thought that Gin's hand was bleeding, but upon closer inspection, she found that the _tree_ was bleeding.

"Gin…I'm not really an expert on trees. That's more of Yamato-sensei's thing. But I do know that they don't normally bleed…"

At least they hadn't when she had hit them.

But Gin wasn't listening. He retracted his hand, holding it up into the light of the moon. "Impossible…"

"That's what I'm saying," Sakura continued, "they don't bleed…"

He was suddenly aware of her. "Wha'?"

"The tree—"

"—ain't bleeding," he finished for her, extending his hand so that she could see it clearly. "Nor am I."

She caught his wrist in a firm grip, her medical mind suddenly taking over. _No abrasions or wounds along the palm._ She flipped his hand over. _No blood, but..._ Her grip tightened and Sakura half-dragged Gin to the fire so that she might confirm her suspicion.

"Poison…" She released him and rushed over towards the tree, careful not to touch the corroding bark. _It's definitely poison. And not one that I recognize. He created it with his chakra? Is this a bloodline limit? But that's not possible…_

She stopped in mid-thought and straightened, regarding him with a strange curiosity that slowly transformed into suspicion. "What was that? A bloodline limit? Don't tell me that you fabricated that entire Shinigami story. You really are crazy…all this time…"

Gin held up his hands, "I dunno what all this is about—"

But Sakura was already retreating into the forest.

"Wait, where are ya goin'?"

She paused briefly, "I'm doing what I should have done from the beginning. I'm leaving."

"I'm tryin' to explain." Gin didn't know why, but he didn't want to see her go. She was the answer to many questions. Questions he himself didn't even know yet. But he knew now that he needed her. He understood the concept of chakra and, with time, he could further increase his prowess, but he was going to need some help. "You can't jus' leave me here in th' woods."

"Oh yeah?"

He withdrew Shinsou, allowing the wakizashi to catch the light of the fire. "This is th' answer. I dunno anythin' bout bloodline limits. But Shinsou had two abilities in my world. The first was th' one that I used the most often. In both shikai and bankai—th' two levels of ability—it extended and contracted at my will—five hundred times th' speed of sound."

Sakura was listening, but her expression was guarded. She didn't move. "And the second?"

"My bankai, Kamishini no Yari's true ability, was poison."

Sakura felt suddenly exhausted. The entire story just continued to add layer upon layer. Everything was a blur now. A blur of technical terms and coincidences. "If the sword was connected to your…soul, as you say, then when it died, it merged with you in this world?"

Looking back on it, Sakura realized that it was an elementary explanation but it was the only one that seemed to work. It was possible, she supposed, given the train of recent events, that Shinsou, as Gin called his wakizashi, had passed on its power to its master upon death. If the two were truly one soul, one being, then upon Gin's rebirth, he hadn't lost his power—just found a new outlet for it.

"See...I wasn't lyin' t' ya." His eyes softened a bit.

Sakura hadn't known that she had been holding her breath until it flew from her in a sigh. "I'm going to go find more firewood. I'll be back in a bit."

The fire still burned brightly, but Gin merely shrugged and sat beside it, turning his attention to his hand. "Do whatcha want. I ain't goin' anywhere."

* * *

The woods were dark without the fire. It was both a relief and a bit frightening. Had Sakura been younger, she would have created monsters in the bushes, eyes in the shadows. But she was older now and, luckily, a bit more practical. But still, the night was dark, even with the moon. As if the clouds had drifted down from the sky and surrounded her and her alone.

But the woods were also quiet. She had walked away from Gin several times to find solace in the solitude—in the sole companionship of the trees and the nighttime animals that watched from their perches. Sometimes she preferred it—the solitary traveling, the missions without a team. But in reality, Sakura missed the chemistry of Team 7. First with Sasuke, and later with Sai. It was amazing how things could change. How decisions could break bonds and simultaneously lead to new ones.

It wasn't that she disliked the other eleven members of the Guardian Ninja. She just wasn't close to them. It had been a personal decision. After healing so many injured people—citizens and ninja alike—Sakura had realized that, for the good of her sanity, she could not afford to let her emotions interfere. At first, it had been difficult, but if being one of the Twelve had taught her anything, it was that her personal feelings didn't matter. Not in the long run, anyway.

Which was why Gin had become a problem. Because she cared to see him through to the end. Even if his story wasn't real. Even if everything he had been telling her might be a lie. She felt personally responsible. She hadn't felt personally responsible for anyone since her run with Konoha—since her battle beside all of her friends against Madara.

_Why do I always end up caring?_ This was the reason she never found time to do anything for herself. Why her goals always ended up obsolete and forgotten.

_But what are my goals?_ She thought of her desire to leave Konoha. The force that fueled her decision. It was to find her own way. _Who am I kidding. I don't have any real goals. Maybe I never have…_

"Damn it!" She said aloud, drawing to a stop. "It's always the same…"

Sakura felt more alone, then, than she had ever felt before. _Stop it!_ She scolded herself, _You're being selfish! You chose to leave Konoha. To be on your own. What did you expect, now—_

But something caused her to halt her mental rant. A shuffling in the brush that stopped the interior monologue as if she had been saying it aloud. Something suddenly felt very wrong. The same darkness of the evening had descended from the night sky to envelop her.

She felt a tingle on her neck, as if someone might be breathing on her. Yet, try as she might, she could discern nothing. She fought the urge to turn abruptly, to glance behind. Something deep and cold overcame the night air, muzzling it in such a way that she felt almost devoid of life. It drew her down deeper and deeper, until she thought that she might cry out.

It was familiar in a way, that shocking fear that froze her blood in her veins. It was a fear that she had experienced some time ago—in what felt like another lifetime—when she had stared down Orochimaru in the Forest of Death. Or when she had seen Naruto overcome by the Kyuubi. The fear that defied odds—when she knew she didn't stand a chance. It paralyzed her to the forest floor with a force stronger than the roots of the trees.

But was this feeling—this overpowering desperation—her own?

A second rustle in the bushes awoke her slightly. She could see the glow of the fire in the distance of the trees, as if it were a beacon calling her home, offering to warm her soul. _Soul…_a voice seemed to whisper. _I want your soul._

She heard something move again, this time behind her. Sakura wanted to turn around, to face whatever enemy awaited her, but she couldn't find the strength. She couldn't even find her voice to cry out. _Move!_ She thought. _Move!_

With great effort, she managed to stumble back. But it only alleviated some of the blow. Her back struck a nearby tree and she coughed violently as the air was knocked from her lungs. She cringed but forced herself to look up, glancing around ferociously for the source. She was struck again, this time in the side, and as her body rolled to a stop, she knew that she was bleeding.

The pain seemed to bring her back to her senses and she scrambled to her feet, still trying to catch her breath. She struck out with her fist, hoping to contact her invisible enemy, but her hand caught nothing but air. When she felt a sudden change in the air to her left, she instinctively ducked, protecting her face with her arms. Something caught her in the shoulder, but she managed to mitigate some of the damage with her chakra. She then extended her chakra to her other wounds, beginning to heal them as well.

But she lost her concentration as something clutched her entire body—perhaps a hand—that nearly crushed the life from her. Sakura squirmed, fighting for air, fighting to free her body from that terrible pressure; she could almost hear her bones cracking beneath the weight.

_Think, think, think._ But Sakura couldn't think. The darkness seemed real now, as it encroached upon her mind. The haze of the trees became a dismal shadow in the background. Her breathing was labored and she could no longer feel her body. She didn't have to be a medic-nin to know that she was dying.

How ironic—the way that life worked. One moment she was arguing with a friend, the next she was holding his hand as he passed on to the next life. And even now, in her case, she had only wandered off for fresh air—to recollect her thoughts—and now she felt her thoughts flying from her, sucked away by the very essence of the idea of death itself.

_Your soul…_She heard the cool calling of the voice. The hollow cry of despair and longing that resonated from that request down to the core of her entire being. It reminded her of the void that followed the death of a companion—the feeling of unearthly loss—the feeling of loss itself.

For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to acknowledge her losses. Her true losses. Not the loss of goals, the loss of opportunities. But the loss of her comrades. Her inability to protect them. To save them. Suddenly Sakura wanted to cry. Even in the midst of death—if death was what awaited her—she could only think of her failures and the pain that accompanied them.

And then she thought of Gin. Was this what his death had been like? What his last moments had been? A recollection of regrets? What personal pain did he carry?

"Gin…" Sakura whispered, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm sorry that I've been so stupid…"

"Save th' apology for later."

At first she thought she had dreamed his voice, but the pounding of his feet was undoubtedly a real echo in her head. He was there, she realized, somewhere in the dark, and shortly after, she discerned the sound of steel slicing through flesh. A cry—pained and angry—ricocheted through the canopy of trees and the night air greeted her again as the hand's grip loosened; she inhaled it greedily into her lungs, even as she fell towards the forest floor. She closed her eyes, waiting for the impact of leaves and dirt. She would welcome it, she decided—that feeling of something sturdy and real against her back.

But her fall was interrupted by something much softer. Sakura tried to blink away the stars but the world continued to spin. Even so, she could feel the strength of Gin's sinewy arms as they lowered her to the ground.

"Stay awake." She wanted to obey him, but sleep was so close. An eternal peaceful slumber. "Sakura!"

She felt him suddenly lift her again as he jumped for safety. The jarring brought her closer to consciousness. Finally, she could discern the outline of his face. He was looking ahead, cautious and expectant.

"You can see it?" Sakura found her voice, but it came out in a croak.

"No."

"Then how?"

"Not now." He tensed in preparation to leap away again towards safety. "Try t' heal yourself. You're bleeding."

Sakura knew she didn't have the strength, but she examined her body to see the extent of the damage. _Two broken ribs, maybe some internal bleeding. Pulse is a bit high. Breathing still labored. Muscle damage. This isn't good._

"I dunno know how to kill it," Gin admitted, finally, as he leapt up again, evading a blow from their invisible enemy. "My chakra power isn't strong enough. I'm gonna make a run for it."

Feeling that this was the best decision, Gin tore away from the battle. He was fast even while carrying her. Sakura wasn't sure how much was a dream and how much was reality, but the pain of her wounds had become a sharp throbbing that seemed to cancel out any sense of time.

The cries of their enemy seemed distant now, further off, and she felt safe. Safer than she had felt in a long time. Even with the danger of death, crepitating like an endless shadow, she couldn't help but feel that Gin would keep it at bay. He would protect her.

Normally this would have bothered her. It was the same results she had always had—with Naruto, with Sasuke, with all her other friends. Someone was always having to save her. But this time, as she thought back to that chilling fear, she felt that it was justified.

Finally, he slowed and she felt him lower her onto the ground. Her wounds ached from the new pressure and she whimpered, but she didn't have the strength for words. She wanted to sleep; she wanted to sleep away that awful cry of pain—that invisible voice belonging to an invisible enemy.

But, much to her internal dismay, Gin worked to prevent it. "Ya can't sleep right now, Sakura. Not like this. I'm not a medic. I need ya to help me…"

_I can't help you. I can't even help myself._

"Sakura…tell me what t' do!" Gin slapped her gently on the cheeks, trying to rouse her.

Sakura opened her eyes and met his. They were open, she realized, but it was too dark to see their color. It wasn't, however, too dark to see the worry. She realized, then, that he was afraid she would die. He was afraid of losing her. _Loss..._ _you know it too, don't you Gin?_

She lifted her hand, "Lend…lend me your chakra."

Gin's hand enclosed hers obediently. Sakura knew what to do as she felt his chakra rise to greet her. She merged it with her own, using it to strengthen and fortify her own receding energy. With a medic's touch, Sakura moved from each part of her body, working only to heal the dire wounds, while leaving the others to heal naturally. The internal bleeding stopped, the ribs were put into a preliminary state of healing. She felt some of the pain dim and her head began to clear.

When she felt that she was no longer in critical condition, Sakura stopped, determined not to use more of his chakra than necessary. However, she continued to clutch his hand. With a small smile, she squeezed it. "Thank you."

He looked away, letting his face melt back into its usual expression. "You're not gonna die, then?"

"No. I'll be okay now."

Gin stood, releasing her hand, and moved away out of her line of sight. "Get some rest," he ordered. "I'll keep watch."

Sakura closed her eyes. "That thing—what was it?"

"We'll talk 'bout this later."

There was something unsettling in his reply. The way he brushed it off. But he knew something, she sensed, that she didn't know. And if there was actually something in _her_ world that Gin understood…something that he recognized…

She wasn't quite sure she wanted to know after all.


	5. The Hour of Reconciliation

**A/N:** This chapter was inspired by the animated version of Gin's death. All-in-all, I found it to be an extraordinarily moving scene. I think my original reading of Gin's death in the manga made me fall in love with him. Now I feel that my love is justified.

* * *

**The Hour of Reconciliation**

* * *

Don't you know what slowly makes one gentle?  
Why cruelty never comes by chance?

_-_Betti Alver, _Stellar Hour_

* * *

_::I'm a snake.::_

_The snow fell lightly, like the tears of the wind, as he haphazardly trudged through it. It was cold. Or it was supposed to be. For some reason, however, he felt strangely warm—as if the angels of Soul Society had decided to caress him, to wrap him in their arms. But what angels? He knew there were no angels. There never had been, really. Well, no angels…except for one…_

"_Gin!" her voice rang out through the haze, sonorous and clear, a bell in the silence. "Gin!"_

_He wanted to stop. To turn towards that reassuring voice. To reach out and grasp on to her. This time he wouldn't let go. He hadn't known what it meant to lose the only person that mattered. Only her…only that voice…_

_::My skin is cold. I have no heart.::_

_But part of him hesitated, suddenly fearful. Were there any more secrets remaining to rest between them? Had there ever really been secrets? No, she had known all along. On some level, at least, she had always known his heart was hers. _

_He halted, waiting, but when he turned around, there was only the outline of her shadow in the snow. _

"_Gin!" she called again as the snow took shape, forming the curves of her body and highlighting the crystal blue of her eyes. "Where are you going now?"_

_::I use the tip of my tongue to find my prey as I slither on the ground and engulf what I like whole.::_

_He had always had a plan. He had always put one foot in front of the other towards some unspoken goal. But now, he realized, he was merely walking blindly. "I don't know anymore…Rangiku."_

_Rangiku extended her hand and Gin watched as drops of ice encircled it. Slowly, she approached him, glowing candescently in the white light of the snow. Her very presence penetrated the encroaching shadows, holding them at bay. _

_It was always like that. Shadows and snow dividing them. There Rangiku stood, white and untouched. Pure. He…well, he was darker, constantly frozen in place by the cold, held back by the skin of his identity—the skin of a snake. And yet she had always called out to him, warming him so that he could press onwards and sliver to the next battle, the next segment of his life._

_It seemed like a wretched existence, a wretched way to eventually die, but he had long since decided that he would do anything to avenge her; he had decided, from the moment that he saw her lying there all those years ago—wounded and hungry— that he would don the snakeskin and choke the life out of his own soul. If it meant he could protect her._

_::That's the sort of creature I am.::_

"_Gin," she sobbed, folding her arms around his neck and burying her face into his shoulder. "Don't you see? You don't have to go anywhere." _

_Gin smiled sadly, opening his eyes to regard her. "I don't think I've got much choice…"_

_Already the snow was beginning to stop. He knew, once the last flake fell, it would be all over. This moment, in whatever dream, whatever memory, would come to a conclusive halt. Gin pulled her closer, taking in the scent of her hair, memorizing the feel of her body pressed against his. He had always been afraid to get close to her. He had known his mission to destroy Aizen and he hadn't wanted to involve her in it. _

_But it wasn't just Aizen that had kept them apart. It had been largely, in part, because of Gin himself. He had feared Rangiku more than any one else. In terms of power, he had always been stronger. But she wielded a power that he couldn't touch. A power over him. _

_The image was beginning to fade. Rangiku slowly released him and reached up to touch his face. "Why do you always go where I can't reach you?"_

_He reached for her hand, but his own passed through it, just as the last snowflake settled on the ground._

_It was time. _

_Gin watched as the shadows overcame the mirage. They flocked towards him, stepping around Rangiku, and bound him in chains. He heard her cry out after him, but she had begun to fade into the distance, merging with the snow. "I'm sorry," he called out in a whisper, as the chains began to drag him down, "I…"_

"_Gin!" _

_There was nothing that remained of her form. Only her cry resonated in the darkness. But still, he could imagine her tears, her disappointment._

"_I…"_

_He didn't fight the darkness. He didn't see a reason to fight fate. But he held onto that image of the snow; he remembered the feel of her arms holding him close. And slowly, he opened his eyes to reality._

_Farewell. Rangiku._

* * *

Gin appreciated the cool water on his face; it didn't erase the image of Rangiku in his head, but at the very least, it let him know he was awake.

He glanced into the surface of the lake, watching as the ripples distorted his reflection, though he wasn't particularly concerned with what he saw there, staring back at him from the sheen of the water's mirror. He was thinking of Rangiku. Of her sobs. Of her pleading voice and desperate eyes. He had left her again—even if it had been a dream—he had been pulled away from her by reality's firm grip.

_It just wasn't meant to be, was it?_

He didn't like the reflection of himself, as the water stilled, and he finally took note of his own weary appearance. Physically he looked the same. Gin didn't often look at himself in a mirror back in Soul Society—or in Hueco Mundo, for that matter—but he knew the man in the lake as well as he could know himself. At least, he thought he did.

Gin had always called himself a snake. He had worked to play the part. Some of it, he had to admit, wasn't an act. For the most part, he had never cared about others. He hadn't cared about the Shinigami in Soul Society. With the exception of Rangiku. He had never cared about Aizen, despite his prolonged act of unwavering loyalty. And he had never cared about the Arrancar that had worked beneath him—whether they lived or died had been a trivial matter.

But sometimes a snake had to shed its skin. Perhaps death would finally allow him to shed his.

"Gin?"

Sakura was leaning against a tree for support as she watched him. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, wondering how long she had been there—and whether or not she had witnessed the conflict reflected on the surface of the water. With a great deal of effort, Gin assumed his normal façade, allowing his face to fall into a state of nonchalance and ease.

"You're lookin' better today!"

Sakura looked away, trying to hide the slight color that rose to her cheeks, "Because of you."

"Nah, I didn't do nothin'," he replied simply, turning back to the water.

"No," she protested. "I wouldn't have even tried to heal myself. I don't know why, but I almost didn't care if I died. Once I wasn't afraid anymore, I just wanted to close my eyes and never open them again. I don't know what got into me. I don't understand why—"

"It's normal," he cut in, not exactly reassuringly, but forcefully enough that she had to stop. "It's normal to want t' give in t' death when you're more than halfway there. It seems easy enough, doesn't it?"

"I don't know…" She sounded a bit bitter, but in truth, Sakura was merely annoyed with herself. "I promised _him_ that I'd keep fighting for my dreams—for my ninja way. But that _thing_, whatever it was, sucked all my hopes away. It felt empty." She paused and stared quietly at the bandages on Gin's back. "You know what it was, don't you? It's something from your world."

Gin turned around once again to face her, beginnin to slowly inch his way closer. "A hollow. One of the bad souls I told ya about."

Fear crept back into Sakura's eyes, but she averted them in hopes of hiding it from him. "It's still out there. And we can't see it. What if it's here now, watching us?"

"I wouldn't worry. Hollows aren't usually the kind of bad guys that stalk their prey in silence. If it's watchin' ya, you'll know it."

"You don't seem worried at all." Sakura allowed herself to sink to the base of the tree, suddenly too tired to remain standing. "But I guess that's no surprise. You aren't afraid of anything, are you?"

Gin had drawn within an arm's length of her before he came to a halt. He stared down at her exhausted form, crumpled against the hard bark of the tree, and wondered how this girl had only a day earlier fended off five or six enemies single-handedly. True strength wasn't always obvious, he knew. Ichigo had been a testament to this, as well as his human companions. But what was strength if it remained hidden in the sidelines?

And fear? That was an entirely different story. Fear…Aizen had spoken of fear, moments after the fatal blow.

"_Evolution requires fear. The fear that, in your current state, you could die and disappear at any moment."_

It was funny that she should mention fear now. Was it because he had not been afraid of death that he had ended up dying? That he had not found the strength to succeed in his mission? In his current state, at the time of his betrayal to Aizen, he had been defeated and, ultimately, he had disappeared from that world.

What was strength if in the end, after years of hiding it, it still failed to achieve the desired results?

Gin finally shrugged—more so in response to his internalized questions than to the one Sakura had asked. "Dunno. Everyone's 'fraid of somethin'."

Sakura snorted in disagreement, thinking of his nonchalant entry into her battle against the shinobi and later the calm manner in which he defended her from the _hollow_. But then, she remembered his response to her wounds. Perhaps Gin hadn't been afraid, but he _had_ been worried. Worried about her. She would never have thought it possible to incite such a reaction from him.

"So what are we going to do? We clearly can't let that thing run free. I can't do much right now, but I've replenished more of my chakra now, so I'm hurrying the healing process. I will be better within—" Sakura paused upon realizing that Gin was looking off into the distance, entirely consumed by his thoughts. "Gin…"

Gin was having trouble focusing. The dream still remained a foreboding presence in his mind and he couldn't relinquish the image of Rangiku, the sound of her voice.

It had only been a dream, right? Rangiku couldn't reach him here. Nothing from Soul Society should be able to reach him.

And yet, there was the hollow…

What if it wasn't just a fluke?

Gin was willing to believe that perhaps a hollow had made its way into this world using the same means he had—namely death. But was it possible that there were more of them? Gin didn't often feel anxious, but he couldn't stop the chill from crawling down his spine. Something wasn't right.

Was Rangiku's appearance a warning? Was there something more to his imagination—something other than his own feelings? Maybe Sakura was the dream and he would wake up in time to learn that Ichigo had defeated Aizen.

However, much to his discontent, Sakura's voice, upon interrupting his thoughts, shattered any illusions he had of the dream's verity.

"Wha'?"

"I was asking what we're going to do about that…hollow."

Gin didn't seem to recognize the word at first, but after a few calculated seconds, the clouds cleared from his expression. "We?" He gave one of his sharp-fox grins. "Who said anything about 'we'?"

"What? You intend to fight it on your own?" Sakura asked, though she already knew the answer. Her eyes lit up at the first offer of a challenge. "You said yourself last night: _you_ aren't strong enough to kill it."

"Based on your performance last night, I'd say you've got a better chance of dyin' than me." His eyes narrowed into slits, " 'sides, I've already died, I've got more experience."

Sakura scoffed, "You want me to watch you run off to your death?"

"They do tend to say t' leave it t' the professionals, yeah?" Gin didn't bother to hide the enjoyment he found in harassing her endless sentimentalities. "No need t' worry, anyway. It's a weak hollow. I can kill it."

"You couldn't last night, as I recall."

"Ah, sorry. I was too busy savin' someone's ass."

Sakura had to admit defeat. She glanced away, pouting slightly. "Yes, yes. So I heard." And then she smiled mischievously, returning to meet his gaze. "Well, then, what's the plan, oh-mighty-hollow-killer?"

Gin regarded her with barely concealed curiosity. _Women._ One moment they were worrying themselves silly over your eminent death. The next they were crying from fear that the same predicted eminent death _might_ actually happen. Then, at the end of it all, they had a sword in hand, ready to kill you themselves for having caused them to worry about your death in the first place. And then they did that same smile—the one Sakura was currently giving him—that defied all challenges and answered no questions. The smile that said, _I'm smiling, but in my head, I am thinking of seventeen different ways to make your life a living hell. You'll wish you were dead when I'm done._

He might have likened himself to a snake, but in reality, Gin thought, women were the ones who carried all the venom.

Sakura, in his eyes, was no different.

Thus, he thought carefully about her question. A plan? Planning had been Aizen's job. Gin had had plans of his own, but they had been rather singular. The end goals had never changed. But this hollow wasn't Aizen. It was a nuisance, but it wasn't unbeatable. And, Gin was quite sure, it didn't stand a chance of killing him.

He needed to search for it before it found a village. The villagers might not have reiatsu, as would be the case in the human world protected by the Shinigami, but they would still have souls. That meant that he would need to stake out the nearest village and hope to find it before it caused any real wide spread panic.

Suddenly aware that he was plotting to save a human village, Gin couldn't help but mock himself. Irony always struck hardest when it was well-warranted.

"Since it lost its prey last night, it's prob'ly on th' move already," he said, finally, treading carefully around Sakura's suspicious smile.

But her smile was gone almost before he had finished his sentence, "We've got to move quickly then."

"We?" Gin asked again. "I thought we had an understandin'?"

"I can't just sit here and do nothing!"

"You'll just get in th' way."

The blow of his words was hard and swift, hitting her like a gust of hot air. How many times before had she heard those same words? How many times had they reduced her to worthlessness? Sakura had lost count. However, this time something was different. This time, she didn't do what she would have done in times long past. Instead of sulking over it, instead of allowing it to fester and drag her down into a pool of selfish tears, Sakura did something she had learned to do—out of both pride and necessity—from the moment she had watched Sasuke turn his back on her a final time.

She stood up.

Gin backed away, having failed to miss the sudden fury that drove her to her feet.

"Just for that," Sakura didn't miss a beat. "I'm going with you."

* * *

Gin was really tired of the woods. He didn't say it aloud. He tried not to even say it to himself. But he couldn't deny it.

Trees bored him.

He had never been a "people" person, but he definitely hadn't been one of those crazy woodsmen either.

Truth be told, he had quite liked Soul Society. It had all the amenities, all the benefits, and being a Shinigami—getting to kill hollows, to kill _anything,_ for that matter—had definitely had its rewards. Gin had never said anything to Aizen—though it was entirely possible that Aizen had known all along—but he had hated Hueco Mundo. And not solely because it had driven the final stake into the heart of his relationship with Rangiku.

Their pace was slow. Sakura was in pain and, because she had long since reached the peak of her stubbornness, she didn't say a word about it. But Gin could tell without having to ask. He could see it in the way she moved, in her slight limp and in the occasional sharp inhalation.

"It's a shame," he began lightly, knowing she would probably flash him a stare gleaming with daggers, "that the hollow will probably get t' finish the job it started last night."

Sakura didn't want to take the bait. She kept her gaze focused on the path of brambles and bushes ahead, watching for any low hanging limbs. She wasn't used to traveling on the forest floor and it only increased her feelings of vulnerability. "It wanted to eat me, right?"

"Well, I s'pose it wanted your soul."

"Maybe it'll be willing to bargain. Your soul is probably much closer to its tastes."

"We can take bets, if ya want."

"What's your offer?"

Gin gave her a sidelong glance, narrowing his eyes in the process, "Not sure I've got anythin' you'd want."

Sakura made no attempt to deny it. But after a moment's contemplation, an idea took hold and she couldn't find the willpower to resist it. "If I win, I get Shinsou."

"If you win, you get—" It took Gin a minute to process her demand. "You get _what_? You're outta your mind."

She shrugged, "It's _dead_, remember. You're just being stingy, now. Betting was your idea. Now, you're afraid you might lose." Sakura feigned an air of regret, though her tone was anything but remorseful, "And here I thought that you weren't afraid of anything."

_Women._ Gin realized that women had been on his mind quite a bit lately, between the dreams and memories of Rangiku and the persistent presence of Sakura. Gin had never even _liked_ women much. And, now, he was pretty sure he didn't like them at all. Women were evil. They plotted, schemed, deceived. And they got away with it. He took one slight three-year-holiday pretending to be on Aizen's side and the entire world hated him afterwards. But if Rangiku had done that…_She could have returned, flashed a smile, held up a glass of sake and said "Cheers!" and all would have been forgiven._

"You can't just run off with him."

"I wouldn't be," Sakura pointed out, "because you're going to hand him to me when I win."

"And if I win, what's in it for me?" Gin asked, suddenly realizing that Sakura didn't have anything he found to be of particular value.

"I won't end up tossing you in a river before we get to Konoha."

Despite being in a fair amount of pain, Sakura was thoroughly enjoying the walk. She didn't particularly want to see the hollow again—or hear it, rather—but it was almost worth it for all the hell she was giving Gin on the way there.

"At this rate, we'll never get there," he mumbled, scouting the shadows of the trees. He wanted to ensure that they were prepared this time. "And, how 'bout, if I win, you have to stick around until I've learned to use chakra."

Sakura shook her head, "I can't. I need to get back to the Fire Daimyo as soon as possible. As it is, I already have a lecture waiting for me upon my return.

He shrugged, "High stakes. Don't tell me you're gonna back out now?"

"Fine." Sakura drew herself to a halt and held out her hand. "Shake on it?"

Gin regarded her hand with slight distrust before gripping it firmly with his own. "I feel like I'm makin' a deal with the devil."

"I figured you would know more about the devil than me—being from heaven and all." Sakura laughed quietly and withdrew her hand, slipping away before he could notice her growing smile.

* * *

Sakura was wary. Night had fallen and, though all was quiet, she couldn't help but search the shadows beyond the fire. Somewhere, perhaps nearby, that invisible hand sought to crush every bone in the body of some unsuspecting victim and devour his soul. She was determined to protect the villagers. And, despite her best efforts to continue on, Gin had insisted that they rest for the night. He hadn't given her his reasons, but he had been adamant. Deep down, however, she knew he was doing it for her.

As the day had progressed, she had increasingly weakened. She hid the pain behind the map, as she scouted out the nearest village and planned possible traps. But eventually she couldn't hide it. Sakura had her chakra, which she used steadily to numb the pain and to aid the healing process, but chakra couldn't heal fatigue. Simply, she needed to rest.

Gin watched, a bit bemused, as Sakura inched as close to it as she dared. "Afraid?"

"It's not easy, stalking around for some demonic creature. I haven't forgotten what happened last night." Unfortunately, Sakura hadn't been able to shake off that voice—the voice that called out and longed for her soul. Its despair had almost consumed her.

How was it even in her world? That had been the principle question on her mind that day. Though she hadn't voiced it. Sakura assumed that Gin had had many of the same thoughts. If she had found him there, close to death—or newly revived—and then a few days later ran into something else from his world, it couldn't be coincidence. And it most definitely couldn't be a good sign. If one hollow was running rampant—and Sakura was still scratching at the surface of just _what_ a hollow was—then there were bound to be more.

"Hey, Gin?"

He had been distant, despite their small betting and occasional bantering, since she had caught him that morning staring into the lake. Sakura wasn't sure that it was actually the idea of the hollow that bothered him. His features, though never easy to read, did not exude worry as might have been expected with the arrival of something from his own world. No, Sakura decided, there was more to that searching expression he had donned for the day—there was something distinctively sorrowful about it.

"Hm?" Gin tried his best to hide his inattention.

"Do you think there are more?"

"Hollows?" He glanced across the fire, thinking of how similar it was to the previous night, and frowned. "Dunno."

"You don't think they followed you here?"

"I wasn't being chased by hollows when I died," he responded simply. "They were on my side."

Sakura's eyes widened, "You said that you were a Shinigami who fought against the bad souls—against the hollows."

"And I did, for a while." He leaned in closer to the fire, using a nearby stick to poke at it. "Ya don't understand, do ya? I wasn't th' good guy. I just wasn't th' bad guy either. I did somethin' bad in hopes that I could do somethin' good. But not for Soul Society—not for humans or Shingami. For—" He paused, guarding his expression as he cast a fleeting glance in her direction. "For a friend."

"Rangiku?"

He couldn't hide the surprise at hearing her name. Gin opened his eyes slightly, casting away the snake for just a moment and retrieving the man. Sakura didn't miss the regret. She also knew better than to say anything about it. Gin hid behind a smile—a sardonic, rather sadistic smile—and the previous power of his race, but there was a part of him, and she didn't know which part, that held on to something incredibly human. Something real and pure and sad. Something that haunted the eyes of men who had died—whether figuratively or, in Gin's case, literally—to one life and reemerged in another, only to find that everything had changed.

When he didn't respond, Sakura added, "I was only guessing. It was the name you said when you woke up after I found you."

Gin remembered now; he shrugged, "You've got a good memory." The fire finally took hold of the stick in his hand and began to crawl its way up the bark towards his fingers. "But Rangiku ain't th' answer to your first question—about th' hollows."

"Then what is?"

Gin finally surrendered the stick to the flames and tossed it into the gaping maw of hot teeth, "I'm gonna ask the hollow."

"You want to _talk_ to it?"

"Hollows ain't the best conversation," he admitted, allowing a devious air to replace his formerly forlorn musings, "but they are inclined t' talk when they think they're gonna get what they want."

Sakura leaned back, suddenly overcome by the fire's heat, "You think it'll be able to provide some answers?"

"Well," he sighed, "guess we'll find out, won't we? At the very least, it'll provide th' winner of our bet."

"You aren't taking this very seriously, are you?"

Gin grinned and reclined against the forest floor, gazing up as the smoke from the fire as it twirled above him, weaving through the line of stars in the sky. "Lookin' back on it, it's prob'ly why I died th' first time."

* * *

_Gin reached out, but his hand was lost in the darkness._

_Why was it always dark?_

_He felt like he was floating in a bubble, surrounded by the pressure of encircling rapids. The air was thick and hot, yet he felt suspended in the air—trapped in the air, really—as if once the bubble broke, he would spend the rest of his days falling in an eternal shadow. _

"_You have forgotten how to listen…" a deep and disappointed voice rang out, giving the void a presence. "You have forgotten how to see…"_

_Though he searched, there was only the endless night to greet him. A night blacker than the universe without the moon. Blacker than the nights of Hueco Mundo. Blacker than the rotten souls of the hollows who had served him. He didn't even know if it _was_ night. Only that it was like a prison for the night itself—a box that now contained all of the darkest nights that had graced the world since the beginning of time. _

"_What is this place?"_

"_Your soul."_

_Gin's smile held no mirth. It was as void of energy as the air around him. "I have no soul."_

"_You have forgotten…"_

"_I've forgotten nothing." Irritation began to crack his carefully forged expression. "Who are you?"_

"_You cannot ask that question until you have answered it for yourself."_

_Before Gin could respond, something bright erupted out of the corner of his eye, temporarily blinding him. He covered his eyes with his arm, cringing as the light seared him._

"_GIN!"_

_The name seemed to awaken something different within him as it echoed through his conscience. Something old. Names, after all, had power in some form. They granted an identity—they gave life to the soul. _

"_Gin, wake up!"_

Gin opened his eyes at the sound of Sakura's panicked voice. What had sounded during his dream like a megaphone in his ear was actually a frantic whispering. "Gin, it's here. I heard it."

"Damn, I thought someone was dyin' or somethin'."

Sakura struck him on the head with her hand. "You idiot! We're going to be dead if you don't do something about it."

"Calm down," he sighed, tenderly rubbing the spot where she had hit him. "I don't hear anythin'."

"That's because it has stopped moving. It's probably watching us."

Gin could feel the presence of the hollow, but he couldn't pinpoint its location. His sensitivity to chakra was still low and Gin assumed that, being in this world, the hollow was somehow existing on something negative—some kind of chakra that was still foreign to him. He glanced at Sakura, wondering how she had sensed it before he had, and then closed his eyes, turning his focus towards his surroundings.

"Can ya feel what direction?"

"I've been trying, but it seems to be everywhere. Its chakra is like a cloud or particles in the air—just floating there. I don't understand."

"Well, how 'bout you bait it out?"

"_Me_?" She hissed, "Are you nuts?"

"If you move, it'll be more inclined t' act. Once it starts moving, I'll know how to kill it."

He needed to hear its voice, to get it to betray its location without realizing that it had done so. Movement, though the hollow itself was invisible, would grant him a better visual. And, in truth, Gin needed that visual to formulate a plan. He had been able to judge the hollow's attacks the previous evening based on the way it had attacked Sakura. Judging by the height it had held her above the ground and the parts of the trees that it nudged when it moved, Gin had a working idea of its physical characteristics.

The fire suddenly died, sucking the last warmth from the air. The despair of the hollow took hold, settling in the air, on the trees, in their hearts. That anguish was the reason they couldn't locate it—the reason that they couldn't sense the source of the chakra.

Gin tensed in preparation. "Go, Sakura. I have an idea."

Sakura gritted her teeth, wanting to argue but knowing it wasn't the right time. If she wanted to kill it—to spare the lives of the villagers—she was going to have to trust Gin. They were going to have to work together.

She nodded, "Alright. I'm counting on you."

After a deep breath, Sakura jumped up and summoned all the energy she could muster. The pain of her wounds caused her to hesitate, but after one last glance at the faint glow of the fire's final sparks, her determination took control. _It's a bad omen to let a fire die_, she thought, remembering the Will of Fire.

Sakura trusted her instincts when she hopped onto the nearest tree branch, using her chakra to grip onto the wood. She glanced around, waiting, straining her ears for the slightest footstep, the slightest call for her soul.

It was like listening to the ticking of a clock that never reached the hour.

And then finally, she heard a footstep, heavy with sorrow and hungry for nourishment, some feet away from her position. She glanced once in Gin's direction, trying to see his face, but she could only make out the outline of his form in the dark.

"_Your soul…"_

This time, Sakura heard Gin withdraw Shinsou; she could hear the way he skillfully pulled the blade from its sheath without a moment's hesitation. And she knew, then, that he truly had no fear. He would face that monster before him without even flinching. Without once letting it affect him personally.

A whistle in the air was the only warning Gin received before the sole remaining arm of his opponent struck the place where he had been a split second earlier. He had lightly stepped out of way, propelling himself in to the air to create some distance between them. He didn't want to be quick on the draw; if he wanted to ask questions, he was going to need the hollow alive. Alive in a way that it would be too weak to escape, but not strong enough to put up a resistance.

"_I want your soul."_

"You don't want hers?" Gin asked, nodding in her direction, as he landed some meters away. "It's nicer. It heals things."

"_I want the soul of a Shinigami."_

"That so?" He shifted Shinsou's position, moving his feet in preparation to attack. "Hate t' disappoint you, but I ain't a Shinigami anymore."

Gin leapt forward to avoid another swing of the hollow's hand. He felt the breeze of movement just off to his left side and he used that moment to advance forward. Counting the paces in his head, Gin quickly did the math. Based on the flow of the air and the sound of the hollow's voice, he managed to deduce how far the arm could extend. It was large, he inferred, and relatively slow. But if it hit him, it was going to hurt.

He sensed a blow coming from above. At the last second and in a movement almost entirely blind to the naked eye, Gin moved Shinsou into a vertical position, allowing the tip to extend just past the height of his own head, and then stepped to the side, shifting the wakizashi to an angle. The blade immediately contacted the flesh of the hollow's arm, ripping through the skin almost effortlessly.

He hardly had to move his hand, allowing the force of his opponent's punch to do all the work.

The hollow howled, and Sakura cringed as the cries of rage were followed by the sound of an agonized thrashing in the trees.

"_My arm! I will kill you! I will devour you whole!"_

"How'd ya get here?" Gin pretended he hadn't even heard its threat, but he didn't relax his sword. "Did ya die in Hueco Mundo and somehow miss the bus t' hell?

The hollow struck out with the bleeding arm, ignoring Gin's question, but the blood was an easy indicator of its position. Gin dodged and thrust Shinsou forward, this time aiming for something more vital. He felt the blade sink into its prey and eat through the invisible skin.

"Though, if it makes ya feel any better, this ain't far from it." He withdrew the wakizashi, feeling the warm blood of his prey drip onto his fingers. "From hell, that is."

It was some moments before the hollow settled down from the pain of the newly acquired wound. Finally, it began to laugh. _"I was dead, but he promised me new life. He told me to find you, to devour your soul, and from there I would be reborn."_

"Who?"

Again, the hollow laughed and Gin heard it stand. He readied Shinsou for the next attack, crouching low.

"_You are weak." _It taunted. _"There is no soul behind your sword."_

"Who sent you here?" Gin asked again, suddenly impatient. "Th' next attack ain't goin' to just maim ya."

But the hollow wasn't listening. Or didn't care. Gin felt the trembling of the ground as it charged him; his hands tightened around the hilt of Shinsou in irritation. He apparently wasn't going to get any answers out of it. Not anything of value, anyway. That meant that there was only one thing left to do.

And just as he prepared to propel himself forward in the final strike, a shadow in the night suddenly fell upon his enemy, sending the beaten hollow crashing into the forest floor in a roar of energy.

Sakura flipped out of the debris and landed next to him. "Sorry," she said without any repentance, "but I wanted to get it back for last night."

Gin narrowed his eyes in amusement, "Didn't think ya could see it."

She scoffed, crossed her arms with an air of defiance, "With all that blood, any decent shinobi could pinpoint its location."

Sakura could already feel the air clearing from the hollow's formerly defiling presence. Gin had done most of the fighting and he had made it look simple, but she knew that in her current condition, a long battle would have been difficult. In the end, it hadn't answered any of their questions, but it had raised one or two more of her own.

She considered its last words.

The hollow could sense something, Sakura was certain, about Gin that put her on edge.

What did it mean? No soul behind his sword? Sakura wasn't sure that the hollow had been talking specifically of Shinsou. She got the impression that it went deeper than that. It went to the heart of Gin's Shinigami soul—the part of him that had faded.

After some moments of quiet contemplation, Sakura suddenly brightened. "I win."

"Huh?"

She held out her hand expectantly and cleared her throat. The moon could not highlight the verdant gleam shining in her eyes, but the look of satisfaction wasn't entirely lost to the dark. Gin almost groaned upon finally understanding her implications.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me."

"Nope. The hollow said it himself. It said, 'I want the soul of a Shinigami.'" She shook her hand, "Pay up."

Gin only clutched Shinsou tighter, "Ah, but he said th' soul of a Shinigami. I ain't a Shinigami."

"As I recall, it chose you. Even _after_ you kindly offered it _my _soul."

She proceeded to count to ten, waiting for Gin to hold up his end of their bargain. Upon realizing that he had no intention of playing fair, Sakura decided that she would have to exude a bit more force. After finally reaching the number twenty in her head, she closed her fist and tightened the muscles in her arm. She looked at him sweetly, "Gin…"

The slits of his eyes narrowed considerably, until they were nothing more than lines on his face. "What now?"

Sakura's response came quickly in one well-aimed, well-timed, and well-imbued punch.

Several minutes later, when he finally regained some sense of his surroundings, Gin found himself staring up at the pointed tip of his own sword. Sakura stood above him, a triumphant smile plastered on her face.

"Soulless thief, you're actually a hollow, aren't you?"

"_Next_ time you shake on something," Sakura said, ignoring his accusation, "I expect you to hold up _your_ end of the deal."

And at that moment, Gin knew for sure that he did, in fact, hate women.


	6. The Midnight Hour

A/N: Happy belated birthday to this story. Not to worry, I didn't forget you all. It's been a crazy year for me. Five months in France. Two months back home in the U.S. Now I've moved permanently to Estonia. It's just been a year of big changes, so I apologize for my extended absence. I have an outline for the next few chapters already complete, so you should be happy to know that the next chapter shouldn't take half a year. Thanks for all of your wonderful reviews; they feed my muse.

Oh, and you should know that I post periodic updates on my profile. Even if I don't post chapters right away, I do check my fanfiction account fairly regularly. So if you think that I've been on hiatus a bit too long, feel free to check my account and see just where I'm at with my stories.

* * *

**The Midnight Hour**

* * *

Why flickering light persists,  
won't die for me on stormy nights?

_-Stellar Hour _by Betti Alver

* * *

He sat next to the chakra lamp, gazing intently at the chains that bound the man before him. His dark eyes took in every detail, every silver link, and every shadowed restraint—so well imbued by a foreign power that he could barely comprehend. It had been several minutes since he had last spoken, but the silence wasn't awkward. Silence, in reality, had never been awkward for him, having taken precedence the majority of his life.

Even his jailed companion, who had proven since their first meeting to be quite a conversationalist, was taking advantage of the silence to await the news. Though, in truth, since his eyes were masked, it was difficult to discern just what the chained man was thinking—or planning.

A shiver ran up the free man's spine as he glanced at the lantern, "He's dead."

"As to be expected."

"Then why did you instruct me to use him in the first place? He will just arouse suspicion."

"Keep your enemy on his toes."

"They don't think I'm coming back."

"Then he didn't arouse any suspicion. You can't be linked to a hollow."

"So what are you suggesting?"

The chained man smiled, a deceptive and rather sinister smile, "Send more."

"And how, exactly, do you propose I do that? The portal closed."

"We bargain."

The free man stood, his brow furrowing in the shadows as his patience waned. "You are in no position to make demands of me."

"You too are a prisoner." The prisoner's smile had yet to fade. "To escape we must evolve. And to evolve, we must work together."

"Hn."

"You have not told me your name." His voice was as smooth as poisoned honey.

"I'll find my own way out of here." The unbound man turned his back, facing the direction from which he had arrived. "You're chained here for a reason. Something tells me that I don't want any part of it."

"Oh?" he chuckled. "And for what reason, my new friend, are you here?"

With each step, his visitor was swallowed further by the darkness. The prisoner could feel the energy fading into the depths of the void and, for a moment, he felt cheated. But he stilled his thoughts and calmed his emotions, knowing that his plan would work in his favor. Within seconds, the footsteps had halted and the prisoner smiled, reassured.

The voice that responded was tight with rage, "I made a mistake." And then, in a whisper—a whisper that embodied more hatred than a hollow—he continued, "I will have my revenge."

That was the seed he needed, the prisoner realized, upon hearing his companion's confession. And with a grim but determined smile, he cast the bait, "That thing you sent at my insistence was the beginning of revenge. There are more. I can give you what you want—more power than you have ever had in your life—if you can, in turn, use it to free me."

"You have no way of knowing that I will help you."

The prisoner's teeth gleamed like fangs ready to penetrate their prey, "Oh, you will. I am the final piece of your puzzle. The last pawn in the game, so to say. Without me, you will inevitably fail."

"And where does this game begin?"

"In a place of eternal night and sorrow, in the breeding grounds of vengeance. Come here and tell me your story and, in turn, you shall here mine."

There was a pause in the other man's steps, a consideration. The prisoner waited patiently, knowing he had already won. He had cast the die and waited to play his hand. What he had said had been true, of course. He would play the final hand in order to achieve victory. But it was in what he didn't say that held all the answers.

_I will play the first hand, as well._

Finally, the steps announced the return of his guest. "You didn't tell me your name either."

"Ah, how rude of me," he paused, seemingly tasting the air. "Please, call me Aizen."

Aizen heard the man return to his former sitting position, "Uchiha…" He rearranged his sword, propping it against his leg. "Uchiha Sasuke."

"Well then, Uchiha Sasuke," Aizen began, his voice only half-serious, "what is it that you want most?"

* * *

"What 'bout now?" Gin eyed the swinging sheath of Shinsou as the sword hung limply from Sakura's pack.

Sakura shook her head, suppressing a well-warranted sigh. "Are you planning to ask every ten minutes from now until we get to Konoha?"

"If it'll work."

"Not a chance."

"Aw c'mon," Gin pleaded. "You don't even plan to _use_ him."

She shrugged, unmoved by his plaints, "I still won."

Gin knew better than to try to reclaim Shinsou through thievery. He had already attempted several times to catch Sakura off guard, only to emerge empty-handed and slightly bruised. But without the sword at his side, he felt naked. Empty. Completely _vulnerable_.

"We're getting close," Sakura hoped he didn't read too much into her changing subjects. "Konoha is at the base of the next hill."

"You don't sound too excited."

"It's been a long time…" she replied wistfully. "I haven't been home since the last battle."

"Oh?" Gin's response wasn't exactly an invitation to continue, but the offer was there, somewhere beneath the surface.

"A…friend…left Konoha when I was twelve. He was my teammate. I spent the next few years chasing him—always trying to reach him—but in the end, he couldn't be saved."

"Why did he betray you?"

In truth, Gin didn't really care. He didn't know her teammate, and by the sound of it, he probably wouldn't have the pleasure of knowing him anytime soon. But Sakura seemed to want him to care—to want to tell the story, if only for having some one to whom she could tell it.

"Revenge," she said simply. "And no matter what I said, or what I did, it didn't matter in the end, because it invaded his heart until there was nothing left but hatred."

Gin didn't answer right away. He had found himself lost in his own thoughts at that point, mulling over the facets that mirrored, in some ways, his own situation. _You were not consumed by an idea, _he reminded himself.

But that hadn't meant that his own soul had been spared for his betrayal.

Besides, his revenge had not been for himself. Perhaps, in the end, that was the point of separation between the personal quest of Sakura's friend and his own. What had been left, when he had failed, had not been hatred, but sorrow and resignation.

Even so, he could not change that. He could only look ahead—to wherever looking ahead would lead him.

"Revenge changes nothin'. Jus' keeps goin' until there ain't nothin' left."

"I know and _he_ knows it too," she replied vaguely. "He just doesn't care."

Gin shrugged, "Then there wasn't nothin' you could do 'bout it."

"I still tried and I still failed." Sakura glanced at him, her green eyes searching, "Haven't you ever knowingly fought a losing battle and then regretted losing even after you knew you'd never win?"

Images of Rangiku surfaced like wildfire clearing a forest. Before Gin could suppress them, they had sufficiently taken over and he was mentally cursing Sakura to the ninth level of hell. He gritted his teeth and stared straight ahead, the contours of his face rigid and lacking their usual foolishness. "In the end, it still doesn't matter. Can't change what ain't meant to be changed."

"I suppose you're right," Sakura acquiesced, but she still didn't feel any better for it.

* * *

Standing in the entrance to Konoha was almost dream-like. As soon as her foot crossed the threshold, Sakura had paused, waiting to see if a guard would approach, if someone would stop them. But the barrier had not forgotten the feel of her chakra; it had known her immediately and allowed her to pass unhindered. Even when Gin had stepped in to the village, the barrier had registered him as an unthreatening passer-by, granting them both the free reign to explore their surroundings and to post-pone the inevitable meeting with the Hokage.

"It's…" Sakura paused, her voice caught in her throat.

"…busy." Gin finished for her, though that had hardly been the word for which Sakura had been searching.

But indeed, Gin was correct in his assessment. People—ninjas and children and villagers alike—moved from place to place at a leisurely but well-honed pace. The streets were crowded, but not overly so, and Gin was impressed with the layout.

"I see we're not gonna be arrested for intrudin'."

"That's a relief." Sakura's sarcasm hid her underlying nerves. "With your communication skills, you'd be permanently locked up."

"So where to?" he ventured to ask, ignoring her last comment as if she hadn't even said it.

Sakura glanced around, feeling suddenly out of place. "I—I don't know." _What will Tsunade say?_

Gin didn't seem to mind to linger, utilizing his time to take in the new sights, the new smells. This world was not Rukongai, but it had a certain life to it that ran parallel to some of his own memories. People were happy here, he noted. People were at ease. And they went about their daily lives believing in their ninja—believing that they could rely on them for protection.

It seemed foolish to rely on someone else for protection. But, then again, Gin had never known the feeling of having someone around to help—to offer a hand. Not until he had met Rangiku, anyway. And even then, it had been—in his eyes—his duty to protect _her_. Not the other way around.

He allowed his thoughts to drift as his eyes scanned each crevice of Konoha that rested within his line of sight, stopping only when he felt a sudden tug on his leg.

"Mister?"

Gin glanced down, suddenly aware of the small child's presence. "Eh?"

"Have you seen my puppy?"

The former Shinigami took in the entirety of the boy in one mere probing glance. The kid was no more than six, with dark blue lines running down each cheek. His brown hair ran in all directions and matched the dark complexion of his face, now stained with tears.

"Why would I have seen your puppy?"

The hopeful sheen in the kid's eyes dissolved in an instant. "Because…" he began, choking back tears, "you look strong; I thought a ninja might…"

"Whoa, whoa," Gin held up his hands, quickly deigning to correct the child's error, "I ain't a ninja."

"Gin!" Sakura smacked one of his upheld hands. "That's no wait to treat this child." Slowly, she knelt at eye level with the boy, "You're part of the Inuzuka clan?"

He nodded, "Mama will be mad that I lost him."

"What does he look like?"

"Michi's this big," the boy commenced, using his hands for emphasis, "and all black."

"And what's your name?"

"Hikaru…"

Sakura smiled, "I'm Sakura. And this," she pointed up towards the man beside her, "is Gin."

Upon hearing his name, Gin met Sakura's stare, briefly wondering what exactly she was planning. _I don't like the way she's lookin' at me…_

"Hikaru, you're in the Ninja Academy, right?" she continued, ignoring the question in Gin's expression.

The boy nodded his ascent. "I just started this year."

"How about a mission?"

"Really? But—"

Sakura winked, "Consider it practice for when you become a _real_ ninja. Plus, you'll have help."

Gin knew where this was going—and he didn't much like it. _I'm not babysitting some brat._ He was about to voice this opinion when she interjected, "Why don't you and Gin search for Michi while I go and speak to Hokage-sama? It will be Gin's first mission too!"

Hikaru's mood improved dramatically, "I won't let you down, miss!"

Sakura's smile shifted when she met Gin's stare of disbelief. He could easily read the message between the lines. That smile said, _Disagree and I will kill you right here._ Gin bit his tongue, promising to get her back for it later, as the boy grabbed his hand and began to lead him away.

"Hikaru!" she called. "Don't forget that you're team leader. Let me know if Gin doesn't listen!"

* * *

With Gin out of the way, Sakura felt a little less pressed to see Tsunade. At the very least, she would be able to do it _her _way, without having to worry about Gin's quick tongue and thoughtless commentary. _That went better than expected._ She had half expected him to pitch a fit at the idea, but, for whatever reason, he had only silently voiced his displeasure. _Maybe he understands how I feel…_

But Sakura shook that thought from her head with a mild laugh, "Yeah right."

She took to the dusty streets, taking in the sights of the reconstructed Konoha as if seeing it for the first time. In a way, she was. When she had left, it had been in shambles, nothing but a crater. However, two years of hard work had finally restored the village to a rather well done replica of its former mold.

There were things that were different, of course. She had walked around the old Konoha enough times to know when something was out of place in the new one, but for the most part, it felt like home. And as if realizing it for the first time, she allowed a small smile to creep onto her features. _That's right._ _I'm home…_

"Well, well," a lazy voice rang out from above her head, interrupting her train of thoughts, "this is a bit nostalgic."

Sakura glanced up, following the sound of the voice with her eyes, and felt her heart dance with happiness when they landed on a familiar ninja crouched on a rooftop. "Kakashi-sensei."

He leapt down, landing gracefully at her side, "Tsunade-sama never mentioned that you would be in town on business."

"I-it's not business, really." Sakura felt her cheeks grow hot. "It's more of a personal visit."

"Ah." Kakashi was his usual non-committal self and Sakura was grateful, knowing that he wouldn't press her for more information.

"Everyone is here?" she ventured to ask.

"The usual."

"How long has it been?"

Sakura cringed, "Two years…"

"The Fire Lord keeps you busy."

"Quite."

Kakashi fell into step beside her and for a moment, Sakura could envision herself several years younger, walking in much the same manner—the teacher next to his student. It was enough to bring a spark of tears to her eyes.

"Everything is so different now," she commented, "and yet it seems like nothing has changed."

"Hm," Kakashi acquiesced, allowing his sole visible eye to appraise her, to see just how his former student was holding up as one of the Twelve. She was fatigued, but not overly exhausted. Worried about something, but nothing that would be easily ascertainable. Though he wanted to ask, the teacher within him knew that either she would tell him of her own volition or he would find out later. Whatever had brought her to Konoha had been a matter that she clearly felt was too large to resolve on her own. _And so she has come home to her family to find the answer._ _A well-made choice, Sakura-chan._

"The battles have become sparse. I hear that peace is on the horizon." Sakura found herself searching for something worthwhile to say, glancing up at him with a small smile. "What do you think?"

"It will come eventually. Everyone is tired of fighting."

She laughed, but the maturity within it was not lost on Kakashi. Sakura had grown up, he realized. She carried the weight of battle heavy on her heart, but she also carried hope _within_ it. _She's no longer the girl swooning after Sasuke._

"You've done well, Sakura."

At his praise, she flushed, surprise evident on her face. "I didn't expect compliments, Kakashi-sensei. What have I done to deserve that?"

Kakashi shrugged, "If you ever have students of your own, you'll see what I mean."

"Do you think Tsunade-sama will be of similar thinking?" There was a twinge of fear in her voice, and even guilt.

"I don't see why not. You were one of her best pupils."

"I was one of her only pupils," Sakura amended.

"That too," he conceded.

She sighed, glancing up at the passing clouds, "I didn't come alone—to Konoha, I mean."

"Oh?"

"But the situation is…difficult," she admitted. "I imagine you'll meet him before the day is out."

Kakashi's eye widened significantly. Sakura had returned, rather sheepishly, to Konoha with a man? He wasn't sure how to respond, remembering how wrong answers tended to anger Sakura, and that angry Sakura tended to harm the person with whom she was angry. Finally, after another long moment of consideration, he offered a tentative, "Congratulations?"

This time it was Sakura's turn to be surprised, her face growing redder by the minute. Her glance shot up, meeting his with horror, "Oh no! I didn't mean it like _that_. I _found _him on the floor in the woods nearly dead and healed him. I meant _his_ situation is difficult. We aren't—he's not—it's not like…."

She couldn't find the courage to finish her sentence and when she found the nerve to meet his eyes again, she saw that Kakashi was on the verge of laughter. Immediately, Sakura found herself relaxing, "Sorry, I'm just a little on edge with seeing everyone again."

"Everyone will be happy to see you."

"Two years is a long time and, as I said, you haven't yet heard the reason I'm here." She slowed her step as the Hokage building came into view. Throughout her conversation, Sakura had not realized that Kakashi had been slowly guiding her in that direction. "I guess this is it," she said with a deep breath, turning towards her mentor with a forced smile. "Wish me luck."

Kakashi placed a hand lightly on her shoulder and gave her one of his traditional smiles—the kind that had encompassed the entirety of his face and honed itself in the shine of his normally lazy gaze. "You don't need it."

And with that, he disappeared in a swirl of leaves.

* * *

"It's really you Sakura?" Tsunade asked over the edge of paperwork upon seeing her former student standing in the doorway. She lowered her pen, giving the pink-haired young woman a quick once over before beckoning her to enter. "Come in."

Sakura closed the door quietly behind her as an overwhelming happiness began to trump her former fears. "Tsunade-sama, I'm sorry I've come without warning."

Her former master stood and edged her way around the desk, taking her former student in her arms. "You've gotten a little taller."

"I guess I hadn't noticed," Sakura shrugged, glancing at her reflection in the glass windows, as she returned Tsunade's comforting hug.

"Everything is all right?" Tsunade released her, edging back to lean against her desk as she appraised Sakura with a well-honed eye.

"Well, yes…" She wasn't sure where to begin. "The fire-daimyo doesn't know that I'm here. I'll need to send a message to him after I've briefed you on the reason for my visit."

Tsunade raised a brow, but waited patiently.

Sakura would have liked to change the subject. To sit down with Tsunade over sake or drink tea or _anything_ really, so long as it wasn't about Gin. But she knew that she had to get it out. And sooner had always proven to be better than later, except when there was death involved. And even then, that had been largely situational.

"Before I begin, I should warn you that this story may sound completely ridiculous and, at times, I'm apt to think that it's just a dream." Bracing herself for the impossibility of explaining Gin's situation, she took what felt like her two-hundredth deep breath for the day, "Approximately one week ago, I found a strange man on the forest floor on the verge of death. His right arm was entirely severed and he had a deep sword wound running across his torso. In all honesty, I'm surprised that I was able to save him. He has healed relatively quickly though he still has limited use of his arm. With time, however, I believe it will be useable."

"This man is with you now?" Tsunade asked, wondering if Sakura had found a discarded spy.

"Yes, though I left him in the village to help a boy find his puppy in hopes of speaking to you alone first."

"You wanted to tell me his story without him here?"

"Gin is a bit…unusual." _Unusual doesn't even begin to cut it. _ As if on cue, the entirety of his attitude began to rankle, until Sakura found herself reliving every single wrong that he had done in just the short amount of time that they had traveled together. "Actually," she added with clenched fists, "he's rude, thoughtless, egotistical, unnerving, and _completely_ unpredictable!"

_Now _that_ is the Sakura I know…_ Tsunade thought with an internal smirk. _She hasn't changed as much as I thought._

"But—" Sakura paused, thoughtful, "I feel like there is something amiss."

From there she told Tsunade everything she knew, reliving the moment of finding Gin just until their arrival. She described her experience with the hollow, the strange assassins in the forest, Gin's abilities. Her words were quick and thoroughly efficient, though her insides quailed at the thought of her former master's judgment. Even so, at the end of it, Sakura felt ten pounds lighter, as if a cloak of Lee's training weights had fallen away from her shoulders.

Tsunade listened with the patience of a Hokage and the wisdom of a warrior. Though the tale was an admittedly extraordinary one, she did not find herself doubting Sakura's speculations and experiences. Sakura had always been capable of reporting accurate information and she wasn't one to exaggerate. But the Hokage found, much to her dismay, that the story made her nervous. Tsunade allowed herself a minute to collect her thoughts, rallying them against one another in an attempt to connect her ideas. Another world? A merging of them? An enemy outside the confines of her mortal understanding?

It was clear at that point that she would have to meet this Ichimaru Gin, though that fact seemed to put Sakura significantly on edge.

"Why don't you get settled for the night, Sakura," Tsunade suggested, finally, after several minutes of contemplation. "It will give you time to send an envoy to the Fire Lord and show our new friend around. You can bring him by tomorrow."

Sakura couldn't hide the visible relief on her already overly expressive features. She would have hugged Tsunade right then had someone not knocked on the door at that precise moment.

"Tsunade-sama."

Knowing that, at this point, she was dismissed, Sakura bowed her thanks. However, just before she said good-bye, the young ninja paused briefly, remembering something. "Oh, this might be useful."

She unhooked Shinsou from its position on her hip, "It belonged to Gin and it's important to him. He calls it an extension of his soul, actually. Maybe someone from Intel can gather some information from it."

Tsunade grasped the scabbard with a firm grip, eyeing the wakizashi with unhidden curiosity. "I'll see what they can find out."

"Thank you, master. Tomorrow, then."

Sakura stepped out into the hallway, yielding the doorway to a teenaged girl with long blue-black hair. Their eyes met, but nothing passed between them—no spark of recognition, no form of camaraderie—leaving Sakura to quit the Hokage's Tower feeling slightly dejected. Konoha had changed in more than just appearance. The next generation was beginning to replace the old one.

It was clear to Sakura, at that moment, that she had finally grown up.

* * *

Nara Shikamaru was bored. Having nothing to do had been rare these past few years. Nevertheless, without the continuous meetings, the drills, the training, or other troublesome things he had previously been in charge of attending, he suddenly found that the peace and quiet was _almost_ unwelcome.

He glanced at his shougi board, playing absent-mindedly with the pieces. He hadn't been able to play for quite some time, and now that he could, he didn't have a partner. It frustrated him a bit, as playing alone had never left him very satisfied.

So he settled himself to coming up with plausible starting strategies for the future.

However before he could immerse himself in the thrill of the battle, a shuffling of feet beyond his porch forced him to glance up. Thinking that his day of peace had just come to an abrupt end by some last minute message from the Hokage demanding his presence, Shikamaru found himself surprised to meet the impassable expression of a rather raggedy, foreign looking man.

Shikamaru raised a brow, "May I help you?"

The man raised a hand to scratch behind his head of silver hair; the other one—Shikamaru realized—was injured. "Not particularly. That girl'll find me no matter where I hide."

Seeing as Shikamaru's luck with women had been non-existent, he felt a twinge of pity for the newcomer, "Do you like shougi?"

Gin looked over, showing the first signs of interest in the shinobi, "You any good?"

Shikamaru didn't rise to the bait; he smirked, "Hmph. Guess you'll have to see for yourself? Otherwise it'll just be too troublesome."

Without another moment's hesitation, Gin sat himself across from the younger man, rearranging the pieces so that they sat correctly for the start of the game. In truth, it had been some years since Gin had attempted to play. The game had always been more of Aizen's forte, planning and scheming had been normal everyday hobbies. But Gin had never been one for the ultimate plan. He liked basing his moves on instinct—he liked to lose himself in the moment and use his intelligence to find a way back out.

With that being said, he didn't expect this to be an easy game. A man never invited you to play a game if he thought he was going to lose.

"What's your name?" Shikamaru asked, making his first move.

"Gin."

"Ah," the ninja noted, "I'd take the time to ask for your story, but those are always too troublesome. Suffice it to say, I know you aren't from around here. But, do you have a reason to be in Konoha?"

Gin raised a brow, temporarily drawing the slits of his eyes away from the board, "If I have a reason, I dunno it yet."

"After the past couple of years, I suppose I have a reason to ask," Shikamaru continued, shrugging. "I'm Nara Shikamaru."

They fell into silence, watching the board and attempting to estimate one another's next move, which—Shikamaru discovered—was no easy feat. Though Gin made some predictable moves, his entire style was sporadic. Sporadic, Shikamaru noted, but effective. It was almost as if the stranger was trying to taunt him into a mistake.

Thus, he decided to change tactics.

"Who are you hiding from?"

Gin glanced up once again, a small grin creeping into the smooth contours of his face. He wasn't going to let this kid divert his attention—even if it was a smart premeditated strategy. He shrugged, "Ain't important. Men are always hidin' from women."

_True enough_, Shikamaru thought, as a picture of a glowering Ino temporarily filled his mind. How many times had he snuck around Konoha just to avoid a lecture? _Troublesome. They're always so troublesome._

He rested his chin on his hand, allowing his eyes to follow the pieces on the board. Playing, almost absentmindedly, with possible moves in his head. It was well known that he could see the outcomes of most choices several plays in advance.

"You don't much like strategy," he observed as Gin made yet another hasty play.

Gin actually smiled, though it was a bit wolfish, "I tend t' let others do the planning."

For a moment, Shikamaru seemed a bit perplexed. He was one of the laziest ninja in Konoha, but even _he_ found some fun in working his mind. He looked a bit closer at Gin. Wisdom told him not to take the nonchalance lightly. This man, whoever he was, was no pushover. And he certainly wasn't stupid. _So if he's half-assing this game, then what game is he actually playing?_ As he made his next move, Shikamaru found himself more and more intrigued. Puzzles had always been the one thing he set out to solve. It was rare that he found himself applying his own equations to a person. Even rarer that he couldn't come to a conclusion within the first few minutes.

He smiled then, snorting softly. What did it matter, after all? He would find out eventually.

* * *

Sakura stumbled upon Hikaru rather by accident, though she had been searching for Gin for almost two hours.

"I see that you have found Michi," she said with a smile made of clenched teeth; her eyes were like forests on fire, ready to devour every leaf, limb, and tree in her way.

Hikaru beamed, unaware, "Gin-niisan found him by the river."

"And where, might I ask, is Gin?"

Hikaru shrugged, "He told me to tell you that he was going sight-seeing."

"Sight-seeing!"

This time Hikaru backed up a bit, suddenly very aware of the sparks igniting in Sakura's eyes. Sakura noted it, barely, but it was enough to calm her enough to be civil. "Hikaru-kun," she began, her voice smothered in the sweetness that would have made any adult gag, "could you have Michi trail Gin's scent for me?"

The child knew better than to protest. He jumped up, speaking a few soft words to the black puppy, and set him down gently, "Let's go Michi!"

The pup took off with a little bark, his tail wagging with each bound of his long oversized legs. Sakura grimaced, knowing that he had quite a bit of growing to do before those legs listened completely to his brain. She could only imagine how many walls had been the subject of off-balanced abuse.

But, at the very least, the puppy was fast, and she actually found herself working to keep him within her line of sight. Hikaru, well accustomed to running with dogs, made it look effortless.

People flew by in a blur. _Probably for the best, _she thought, considering the desire to pummel something had now grown in increasing proportions. She wanted to save her anger for Gin. _How dare he go running off by himself here? _

The sections of town were becoming increasingly familiar and, by the time she had rounded the next corner, she knew exactly where she would find him. Sakura slowed her pace as she neared the familiar wooden outline of Shikamaru's house, pausing only to give Hikaru a commending pat on the head, "Good work. I'd say you have done excellent ninja work today_."_

He beamed at her praise, giving her a half salute, before grabbing Michi and running back in the direction from which they had come. He might have liked Sakura and Gin, but he wasn't about to come between whatever erupted in the next few minutes.

She could hear their voices before she could actually see them—the two laziest people she had ever met—as they played a game of shougi. _Shikamaru is probably thrilled to have found a worthy opponent_. As soon as she caught sight of the back of Gin's head, Sakura crossed her arms, transforming her façade into an impersonation of passive stone, and leaned against the wooden post of the porch, waiting calmly until one of them took the time to notice her.

Shikamaru was the first to glance up and he nearly choked in surprise, "Sakura-san?"

Upon hearing her name, Gin went rigid, his entire back tensing like a tightly coiled spring. As if, at any moment, he might make a run for it.

"Shikamaru-san," she half-smiled, "it's been a long time."

She edged her way closer, making sure that she didn't break eye contact with her old comrade. He looked quite the same, she realized, with the same lazy look, the same earrings, the same air of utter boredom. But she knew that some things had changed—she had to know. Because in reality, everything had changed. And she would be a fool to pretend otherwise-a fool to believe that they were the same innocent genin.

"Thanks for babysitting my charge."

Upon hearing this Gin seemed to come alive, "Your charge?" He gave a kind of wild laugh, "Woman, the only reason I'm even here is cause _I_ decided t' follow _you_."

A spark of recognition couldn't stop Shikamaru's next words, much to Gin's dismay, "_This_ is who you were running from?"

Sakura cracked her knuckles, waving them so Gin could see, "And here I thought you were sight-seeing."

Shikamaru felt vaguely uncomfortable. _This is going to be troublesome_. He decided to try and draw Sakura's attention away from Gin, "You're here on business?"

His plan seemed to momentarily work as Sakura looked off, thoughtful, "No, not really. In reality, I'm just visiting." And then, upon reentering the subject of Gin, she bristled again, "I'm visiting because I had nothing else that I could do with_ him_."

Before Shikamaru could speak again, she marched up to Gin, completely closing the gap between them, and grabbed him by his bandages, "You realize that I have been searching for _two_ hours, right?"

The snake in Gin's smile only spread wider, "And _you_ realize that I hadta baby-sit some brat for two hours while searchin' for some dumb dog?"

So this was payback, Sakura realized. And then a rather cruel idea took hold. "Well, if you wander off again, you'll never get Shinsou back."

Gin's narrowed eyes fell immediately to Shinsou's former position, "Where is he?"

"Oh, don't worry. He's in safe hands." And then with a sharp smile, Sakura added, "For now."

Gin had to work hard to maintain his composure, but his expression was much grimmer than before. Before, he had only been mocking her. Now she was challenging him and it was everything he could do to refrain from rising to the bait. Shinsou had been taken from him in some sort of good fun—at least he had believed. And now she had gone and given him up to someone. Relinquished _his_ soul for the inspection of whoever chose to look. For the briefest of moments, his temper flared, a deep and dangerous thing. The last time it had done so, he had spent a lifetime planning and executing his revenge.

But, he thought, forcing himself to exude a calm he didn't feel, she could just be taunting him. Tricking him into acting like an obedient lapdog. He eased the tension out of his shoulders, thinking inwardly that the situation was almost comical. This was a game, he convinced himself. All he needed to win was to play by her rules until he could gain the upper hand.

"At least I _found_ th' damn dog like ya wanted," he offered as a sort of truce.

Shikamaru had considered just leaving on sudden urgent business, but the reactions between the two became a very intriguing spectacle. They were playing a game of power the way two children play cat and mouse. Except this time, both the cat and the mouse were armed with heavy artillery and constantly growing intellects. _Maybe I should have challenged Sakura to shougi too when we were kids_, he found himself thinking.

"May I ask," Shikamaru said with a cough to get their attention, "what is Shinsou?"

Much to his surprise, it was Gin who answered, "My sword."

"A chakra sword?"

"Not quite. He's a great deal more 'n that."

"He?"

Gin nodded, offering no further explanation, forcing Shikamaru to glance at Sakura for aid. Much to his disappointment, she merely shrugged, looking off as if she were deep in thought.

Giving up, he decided it was best to change the subject, "Have you seen Naruto yet?"

Upon hearing the name of her former teammate, Sakura visibly brightened, "Is he here?"

"He got back from a scouting mission yesterday."

"I just arrived here today. I've only seen Tsunade-sama. And now you." She paused, "Oh, and Kakashi-sensei dropped by on the road."

"Ah, I'm sure you'll bump into him. Try ramen."

Sakura nodded, the thought having already been filed away in her mind. The first place to look for Naruto had always been Ichiraku's.

"What about Ino? Is she—" The young medic-nin suddenly didn't know how to continue.

Shikamaru, however, had been well prepared and eased into the conversation, "Ino will want to have a party. It'll be really troublesome if you go see her now."

Sakura smiled, "Only troublesome for you." And then, to continue her former thought, she said quickly, "Is she back on duty?"

Shikamaru looked away briefly, his eyes narrowing slightly, "She can't do missions anymore. But she works in the hospital."

"Oh," Sakura couldn't find the words to say, "I didn't hear the extent of it, I guess."

Already the guilt was creeping up like a vine, ensnaring her with its thorns. _If I had been there, could I have done something?_ Had abandoning her friends really been the right choice? Shikamaru didn't seem to hold it against her, but that was because he had received the same offer. But he had turned it down to fight alongside his comrades. And what had she done? She had run off like a scared dog, determined to prove herself without having the slightest clue of what she was getting into—or what she was leaving behind.

"I'll have to see her," Sakura said quietly. _I'll have to apologize that I wasn't there to help._

Silence descended upon the three. Gin looked like he had only been half-listening to the conversation, but Sakura didn't doubt that he had probably inhaled every word and logged it away somewhere in his overly active and extremely intelligent mind. Though he didn't always prove to have common sense, she knew that he would wait until they were alone to ask about an obviously sore subject. If he asked at all.

Finally, Sakura moved away, "I better go find everyone else before word travels that I've been back for half a day and haven't visited with old friends." Then, turning to Gin, she gave him one of her level stares, trying her best to conceal her thoughts, "I need to take a look at your wounds as well Gin."

Though she thought he might object, he rose without so much of a word of complaint. He turned to Shikamaru, "We can continue this some other time, if ya want."

Shikamaru leaned the back of his head into his arms as he tilted himself lazily in his chair, "Sure. You know where to find me now."

And as he watched the two leave out of one half-open lid, he let out a sigh. He had thought he might get a bit of a vacation, but something told him that the arrival of those two was a catalyst for something much larger. He didn't much believe in fate, or whatever gods looked down upon them, but he knew that when something odd happened, it tended to create a string of events equally as odd and equally as unpredictable.

Shikamaru glanced up at the clouds idling in the sky with a sinking feeling settling in his chest. _This is definitely going to be troublesome. _

Next time he was going to request that his vacation be moved somewhere that Konoha's problems wouldn't end up on his back porch. _  
_

* * *

Special Announcement: If you like Gin/Rangiku, check out my newest addition to my stories: _Metaphorical Language. _It's not really my usual style of storytelling, but it is proving to be quite a bit of fun. If you like riddles, come along for the ride.


	7. The Hour of Rediscovery

**A/N:** I got a lot of reviews from people who were curious to see Gin's interaction with the old Rookie 9 so I'm actually playing around with them a lot more than I had previously intended. With that being said, this chapter is mostly character development.

* * *

**The Hour of Rediscovery**

* * *

Go ask those better than yourself.  
Go ask the living. Ask the dead.

-Betti Alver, _Stellar Hour_

* * *

"Your chest wound is almost completely healed," Sakura said with some amount of satisfaction, her voice entirely professional. "How has your arm been?"

They were in a borrowed room in the hospital, and Gin was still smirking. The doctors and nurses had quickly cleared out of the way upon seeing the pink-haired medic. _"You've got quite th' reputation huh?" _He had jibed smugly, wondering if the medics were gaping out of shock at seeing one of their best medic-nin back in the building, or if it was merely the get-out-of-my-way-or-die expression plastered on Sakura's face.

The kunoichi had been a bit embarrassed by all the attention and it only worsened when she had to ask for directions. She had known the _old _Konoha hospital down to the very last crumb in the corner. But, she hadn't been inthe new hospital yet, and though there were similarities, not _everything_ was in the place she remembered.

"All things considered, you've strapped it so tightly t' my side that I dunno if it's even there or not."

"Good, then let's see what your range of motion is at the moment." She undid the bandages, gently casting them to the side as she slowly and carefully stretched his arm in front of him. Gin watched casually as she moved it from one side to the next in a deliberate circle. "Nothing hurts?"

He shook his head, "It hurts, but there ain't nothin' to do 'bout it."

Sakura sighed, temporarily halting the motion, and placed her hand on his shoulder, closing her eyes in the process. She felt their chakra collide in a swirling motion of green light, but Sakura forced his to give way. Everything _was _healing, she saw, and healing rather well, but the damage was still extensive. An arm that had been ripped away was much more difficult to stitch together than one that had been cut. _He'll probably never have full range of motion, now._

Wasn't there something she could do?

Sakura frowned, opening her eyes, and turned her gaze to Gin, "We're going to start doing daily therapy."

"I don't think ya want inside my mind."

"For your arm, you idiot!" She released him and he gently tucked the wounded appendage back at his side, refusing to show any signs of pain. Sakura's features softened, "I want you to be able to use it again."

He shrugged, glancing away, "Doesn't matter. I can jus' use the other one."

"Well, we're still going to try."

Gin didn't argue; he was too busy observing the white walls and the white linens. _Everything is white_. Like the snow from that dream. Clean and pure, as it should be in a place of healing.

Sakura wasn't paying attention; she was scrambling in her medical bag, looking for a salve to apply to his arm, while mumbling under her breath, "You would think that I'd been gone a decade with all the attention. I'm not Tsunade-sama. I didn't just disappear!"

"How long were you gone?" Gin asked, interrupting her monologue.

"Well," Sakura said, thoughtfully, "it's only been two years on official records. But the war lasted for a while and I wasn't here—in Konoha—I was on the front lines. It may be four years since any of them have seen me. The younger ones especially."

Upon hearing her use of the word _young_, Gin laughed, "What? Ya think you're old? That because you've lived through a war that you're some kind of relic of ancient wisdom?"

Sakura tried not to bristle, even though his comment stung, "I'm not a child anymore. And it's not like you look much older than me."

At this, Gin's fox-like grin spread into a thin tantalizing smile, "Oh, but how looks can be deceivin'."

"How old are you then?"

"Dunno anymore. One hundred somethin'."

"What?" Sakura squeaked, failing to conceal her surprise, "That's not possible!"

The slits of his eyes deepened into amusement, "Course it is—where I come from."

She remembered, then, that he had mentioned having lived over a hundred years in Soul Society in a previous conversation. At the time, she had been trying to digest just _what_ this Soul Society was—or if it even existed. Whatever he had said about his age had been entirely inconsequential. However, now that she believed him, the thought of someone living for hundreds of years—human or not—who wasn't doing some kind of forbidden jiujutsu, seemed surreal.

"Why would anyone want to live that long?" Sakura mused aloud, thinking briefly of Madara and Orochimaru—two ninja who had gone beyond the normal parameters of acceptable behavior in order to extend their longevity— and wondering briefly what she would do if she were to live over a hundred years without even showing her age. _Tsunade would love it_.

Gin gave her a serious, disconcerting look, "If you were given a few centuries t' study medicine and the way it interacts with your chakra, think of th' lives you'd save."

She shrugged, clearly contemplating it.

"For Shinigami, it can take hundreds of years just t' gain mastery of one's own powers. Humans merely find fragments of themselves throughout a century—sometimes less—and then die off without ever knowin' the extent of their own limits."

"What about all the lives that I wouldn't save on the way to finding the answers?"

Gin opened his eyes a crack so that the blue of them seemed to melt the room, "Ya can't save everyone. And if ya worry 'bout that, the only person who will need savin' in the end will be you."

Sakura turned away, once again busying herself in her pack to prevent Gin from seeing the look of dismay on her face. He was right, of course. When he was being serious, Sakura found that Gin often parted with wise words. Words he seemingly amassed for those special moments when he deemed them necessary.

And then a thought dawned on her; Gin only shared when he thought it was relevant. Most of the time he was obnoxiously sarcastic and nearly impossible to read. But when he _was_ being serious, he seemed to draw from experience—from something in his own past.

She forced herself to stop her idle searching through the bag and gave him a pointed look, "Is that what happened to you then? You cared so much about saving someone that in the end it killed you?"

Surprisingly, Gin didn't shut his eyes in to those thin taunting lines; he didn't conceal himself in a fake smile. He held her stare without so much as flinching, "I knew from th' beginning that I'd never be saved."

"And so you threw your life away?"

"I didn't ask t' get cut up by a sword. I didn't ask t' have my arm ripped off by that bastard." _I wouldn't have minded if I could have kept living. For her._ He paused, giving her a hard look, "But I did an' I died. And that's how life goes in any world—yours or mine."

"But it was different for you," Sakura said quietly, fully aware that this was possibly the most Gin had spoken of the matter. "You're here now. Don't you think it a bit odd?"

"What's odd?"

"If you couldn't be saved, if you were meant to die for your crimes, then why were you given a second chance at life?"

Gin's eyes widened briefly. _Why?_ Indeed, that was a good question. He had considered it a punishment, of sorts. To be stuck in a human body without Shinsou, without Rangiku. Without anything that had ever mattered.

But maybe Sakura had finally said something useful, he mused. Maybe, for once, she was right. Was this his chance, finally, to redeem himself?

He took in the medical-nin's small frame as she began to apply a salve to his shoulder, methodically massaging it into the whiteness of his skin. What were the chances of this girl finding him in that section of the forest? That the person who had happened to find him had been capable of restoring him to life? Indeed, he didn't much like her. She was a pain in the ass. But she cared, in her own way. That much was clear. She cared about what happened to _him_.

And that was a far cry from what he had expected.

He thought back to their encounter with the hollow, recalling his worry as Sakura had seemed to slip from him. She had reminded him of Rangiku, then, lying their on the ground, a broken bloody mess. He hadn't been able to protect her from the pain.

_I can't make any more promises. _Of that much he was certain. _I can't keep them._

* * *

"You weren't going to leave without saying hello, I hope?" inquired a familiar voice, halting Sakura in mid-step as she guided Gin out of the hospital room.

Immediately she turned, her eyes widening in recognition as she caught sight of long blonde hair and vastly deep blue eyes, "Ino!"

"Who else?" Ino rolled her eyes. "You act like you're the only one who should be working in this hospital. I'll have you know that my medical jutsu have become quite proficient."

Sakura laughed, though it was strained. She was trying her best not to look at Ino's leg. Or at least at her leg's replacement. "How have you been, Ino-pig? Still fruitlessly chasing after boys?"

"Can't do much chasing with this thing," she patted the metal replacement, "now can I?"

Sakura fell silent, lost for words. When she found her voice, it came out in a nervous squeak, "I-ino, about that—"

But Ino interrupted her, holding up her hand, "You're not the only one who has changed, you know. I was never your equal in anything. Once Tsunade-sama oversaw your training, you jumped ahead of me—almost to the point that I'd never be able to catch you. Even now, I don't know that I have. However," she paused to give Sakura a significant look, "I quit chasing you. Losing a leg is nothing. I belong in this hospital and I contribute this way. I was never good in the fighting arena, anyway."

"But—"

"Let me finish," Ino ordered. "You're probably sitting there, feeling sorry for yourself about how you couldn't help me. Well, get it through your thick forehead: I didn't _need_ your help. I chose to lose it—the way you chose to lose your hair that day in the Forest of Death."

"Ino!" Sakura teased, feeling that the seriousness of this conversation was meant for a later time. "Legs don't grow back like hair, you know."

Almost on impulse, Ino stuck out her tongue, and the two girls fell into a fit of much needed laughter. So much had happened in those years. So much had changed for them both. But standing there in the hall of the hospital, insulting and teasing one another, was the first thing that had felt _normal _in years.

"Ok, Ino-pig," Sakura said, simultaneously gasping for air, "I get it."

"Good."

Gin stepped forward, his eyes stretched into thin observant lines, causing the two to regain some control, "Women are strange, strange creatures."

"Who is this?" Ino asked, her laughter coming to a rather abrupt halt upon catching Gin's sly smile; he gave her goosebumps.

"This," Sakura said, gently patting Gin's good arm, "is Gin. If you want to keep your sanity, I suggest you ignore anything he says. Oh," she continued in her best evocation of nonchalance, "and don't ask about his past. That's also completely irrelevant and nonsensical."

Gin gave Sakura a strange look that wasn't lost on Ino; before she could stop herself, the blonde kunoichi found herself in another tantrum of uncontrollable laughter. "Saaakura," she drooled with a wink, "you didn't tell me that you have a _boyfriend_."

At the mere idea, Sakura shrieked, "Ino-pig! He is most definitely _not_ my boyfriend._ Look_ at him!"

"Come on," Ino continued with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't be modest."

Sakura's red face didn't aid matters. Quickly, grabbing Gin by his free arm, she pulled them both towards the exit, deftly stepping around her old rival.

Still snickering, Ino turned to watch her friend rapidly disappearing down the corridor, "Hey Sakura!"

The pink haired medic-nin stopped briefly, glancing behind, "What?"

"Drinks tonight! My place. Just the two of us." This time Ino's smile was genuine, "We have a lot of catching up to do!"

"A lot of catchin' up to do, huh?" Gin snorted, not bothering to hide a tantalizing grin. "Just th' two of you?"

"Shut up," Sakura said, hitting him ruthlessly on the chest before waving farewell to Ino. "I'll see you tonight, then!"

* * *

"Why can't I play shougi with your friend while ya pay your house calls?"

"Because you can't stay out of trouble."

"T' be fair, he doesn't seem t' much like trouble."

"He doesn't," Sakura agreed. "But I can't say the same for you."

The smell of ramen grew more pronounced the closer their footsteps brought them to Ichiraku's, and though Sakura was resigned to admit it, it was a rather welcoming scent. Ramen meant Naruto. And seeing Naruto would really mean that she _had_ come home. After all, Konoha wasn't Konoha without its number one unpredictable ninja.

"So who is it gonna be this time?"

"A former teammate," she replied, then added in afterthought, "you might actually like him."

Sakura didn't bother to mention that _everyone_ liked Naruto, given time. He just had that ability to draw people in and keep them close.

"He any good?" Gin demanded haphazardly.

"At what?"

"This ninja stuff."

"One of the best," she responded with some amount of satisfaction.

Upon entering Ichiraku's, the first thing Sakura noticed was that the formerly small street-bar had turned into a full-blown restaurant. It bore only the vaguest resemblance to the Ichiraku's of her childhood until she saw the two busy owners behind the counter, still taking orders as always.

Her focus, however, rapidly shifted as she noticed, sitting on a stool within the proximity of several empty bowls, the unmistakable form of her best friend.

"Naruto!" Sakura murmured beneath her breath, temporarily forgetting Gin as she launched into a run, "Naruto!"

Just as the blond ninja began to turn, he was caught in Sakura's fond embrace, a sound of utter disbelief the only thing he could get past a mouthful of ramen. Swallowing quickly, he returned the hug with wide-eyes and a slowly growing smile, "S-sakura-chan?"

"You," she began as she released him, eyeing him from head to toe, "you look different…"

He still had the same physical characteristics—the blond hair, the bright blue eyes, even the whisker marks. He was even still wearing some variant of his favorite orange outfit. But there was a strange bearing to him. It radiated confidence.

"I've been training a lot," he offered.

Sakura shook her head, "No, no. I meant—well—you're just… I don't know. Different."

"A good kind of different, I hope," Naruto grinned, running a hand absentmindedly through his hair. "You know, everything is different these days. I bet you are too."

"Was she just as abusive, easily angered, and manipulative before she left?" Gin inquired with a straight face, opting to take the furthest seat from his pink-haired warden.

Naruto snickered beneath his breath, welcoming his new companion in stride, "Oh, you have no idea."

"I think I might."

"Are you a friend of Sakura's?"

Not wanting to know what Gin's response would be to that particular question, Sakura sidled her way between them. "Naruto, this is Gin."

"Nice to meet you," he mumbled through a mouthful of noodles. "I'm Naruto. The former number one most unpredictable ninja. And future Hokage of Konoha"

"Former?" Sakura quizzed with a raised brow.

"Well," he admitted sheepishly, "maybe I haven't entirely given up my claim to that title, but Konohamaru is giving me a run for my money."

"Konohamaru," she mused, picturing the Third Hokage's grandson, "he must be quite grown-up by now."

Naruto shook his head, "Yeah, he's gotten really strong…"

As his response died in the bustling of Ichiraku's, silence fell like a curtain over the two comrades, leading them down the rather unwelcome path of nostalgia.

Sakura mulled over the way the light in Naruto's eyes had transformed since the last time she had seen him. Every part of him radiated with his ever-present determination, but he seemed to have acquired something else too—something only life-experience could give. He wasn't the same prankster child or the hopeful teenager. He was an adult now and had come to realize the hard truth of life: some things couldn't be changed no matter how hard one tried.

She imagined that out of anything he had had to learn, this lesson had proven to be the most difficult.

It certainly hadn't been easy for her.

And before she could stop herself, she thought of Sasuke. She had loved him—loved him despite his crimes and his unhealthy thirst for revenge. She had loved him enough to believe that she could change him.

And in the end, the only person who had changed had been herself.

Naruto seemed to be catering to similar thoughts and quickly cleared his throat, disgruntled by the rapid pace with which the memories of his childhood had come trickling to the forefront of his thoughts.

"Want to train later, Sakura-chan? I bet you've gotten strong—you know, working as one of the Twelve and all."

She gave a soft smile, shutting her mind to her own previous thoughts with some difficulty, and considered his offer, "I can't… I already made plans with Ino."

"Ah, I feel sorry for you. A night with Ino…" He turned to Gin, "What about you?"

"He's not a shinobi," the medic-nin answered quickly.

"Really?"

"I kinda got a late invitation to the ninja game," Gin confirmed.

Naruto's surprise gave way to an unusually thoughtful look, "You have the eyes of one."

Gin appeared only vaguely amused, "I ain't too bad with a sword, if it helps."

"You're probably good at sparring too."

He started to respond, but Sakura quickly interrupted, hoping he would take the hint, "I don't know if that's necessary, Gin."

"Actually, Naruto-san, I wouldn't mind trainin' with ya," Gin flashed a challenging glare in her direction, temporarily rendering Sakura speechless. "You can show me a few things."

"Great!" the future Hokage grinned, oblivious to the tacit game the other two were playing. "You can meet me at the old training grounds next to the memorial stone at dusk."

Gin didn't know where that was, but he nodded anyway.

Taking advantage of the lull in conversation, Naruto stood, "Well I'd better go. I feel like I'm late for something. I'm glad you're back Sakura-chan. Konoha isn't the same without you." He paused, apparently searching for more words, but quickly gave up. Words had once come easier between the two of them, Sakura realized. He turned to Gin instead, "Don't think I'll go easy on you!"

"I'd be disappoint'd if ya did."

"Heh," Naruto's eyes reflected their approval. "See ya later then!"

Sakura watched until the last shade of his orange suit disappeared out the door, feeling unexplainably disheartened. Often during the war, she had wondered how Naruto was holding up, worrying that the loss of Sasuke would cause him to lose sight of what truly mattered. That didn't seem to be the case, but still, something felt…off.

"Naruto…" she sighed, her heart inexcusably heavy.

No amount of time could fully heal the wound of Sasuke's defection from Konoha or the way he had betrayed his friends. But the two of them—Naruto and Sakura alike—had found ways to focus on other things. She was relieved to find that he hadn't forgotten his dream to become Hokage, and she—well, she had run away from it all, determined to stake out her own future—determined to create a future that didn't involve the past.

_Although_, she thought as Gin became, once again, the primary object of her attention, _my future would be a lot better without him too._

"Is that wise?" Sakura asked—in lieu of the slew of other things that had come to mind.

"I'm not tryin' t' hide what I am," he replied smoothly. "What are ya so 'fraid of, anyway? For all anyone knows, I'm just your average guy."

She sighed, falling short of the energy for anger, "Too many strange things at once, I guess." After another moment, she stood, slowly making her way to the door, "You're right. I'm worrying over nothing. After all, I'll be leaving soon and you'll be on your own." She gave him a final glance, "I'm going to go wander around a bit. Do what you want. Someone can point you towards my apartment when you're done."

And for whatever unfathomable reason, Sakura's depression carried her outside. Away from the friendly faces in Ichiraku's and the reminders of her childhood. Of how Kakashi used to treat the entire original Team 7—Sasuke included—to ramen when they had performed particularly well on a mission. How she had frequently had to push a persistent love-struck Naruto into his ramen bowl when he would ask her out on a date.

Her ruminations opened the floodgates for a swell of convoluted emotions—emotions she had long since buried in her medical work as one of the Twelve.

It was why she had left Konoha to begin with—if Sakura was honest. She didn't want to _have_ to remember. Anything. She didn't want to have to deal with the pain.

When considered from that angle, it was no wonder that she had such a short-circuit when it came to Gin. He had become the conduit that connected her to the singing ghosts of her past. It wasn't his fault, of course. He wasn't intentionally trying to cause her pain. But now Sakura found that she was resenting him for it.

_I'm sorry Gin, _she thought with a quick glance to the sky. _I treat you like a child, but really, I'm acting like one. _

What about his pain? What about his memories? He wasn't even in his own world. What were her problems compared to his? She tried to approach it from that point, making a note that she would be kinder—more aware of how _he_ was feeling.

_I'm not the only one who has lost someone I loved._

Her spirits lifted a little at the thought. No, she definitely wasn't the only one who had lost loved ones. But at the very least, she still had those loved ones who were still living to share the pain—and the joys—that came with survival.

She still had Naruto and Kakashi—the original Team 7. Sai was somewhere too—and he had become a rather well-chosen replacement for Sasuke. Ino had been wounded, but her spirit hadn't faltered. If anything, she had only been strengthened from it. Tsunade had merely taken one look at her and hugged her, welcoming her home. _Yes,_ she thought, _I still have my precious people._

Gin, on the other hand, had no one.

No one, Sakura realized, but her.

* * *

**Endnote:** It takes me an upwards of 8-12 hours to write these chapters. Sometimes far more. It takes you two minutes to show me that my effort wasn't wasted. Your reviews are read, considered, and appreciated.

* * *

**Special Announcement:** I've started a new crossover. Wolf's Rain x Naruto. If you find the Itachi/Sasuke story to be one of the more moving stories in anime (barring the fact that Sasuke is a complete moron 95% of the time), then this might be the story for you. Give it a try.


	8. An Hour's Duel

A/N: I must be the slowest writer on this site and for that I apologize. I have a long list of excuses, but I'll spare you the details. I'd like you all to know, however, that your reviews have been wonderful gifts through these past few months and I have not forgotten this story or its patiently waiting fans. All I can say is: Thank you, thank you, thank you all for your thought-provoking words.

* * *

But never ask the passing time  
For those who went by chance  
Into pitchdarkness over Lethe meadows.

-Betti Alver, _Stellar Hour_

* * *

Naruto looked up from reading the inscriptions upon the stone as Gin's sinewy shadow caused a darkness to descend upon the fading sunlight splayed across the memorial's smooth surface. He hadn't realized that his hand had come to rest upon a familiar name—nor had he realized that he'd been silently thinking about it for close to two hours. _Damn, I'm turning into Kakashi-sensei and I'm not even old_.

"Sorry I'm late. I had t' ask this ol'—" Gin hesitated upon catching the last glimpse of resignation on Naruto's features. Without thinking, the slits of his eyes fell nonchalantly to the place where Naruto's hand rested.

But the young shinobi stood quickly, chuckling lowly, "Oh, it's so late already?" He rested an arm behind his head as he gazed up towards the fading light, "Don't worry about it. I was just thinking…"

"Th' old hag mentioned the KIA stone when I was askin' for directions. Gave me half th' Konoha history right then and there too, I think."

Naruto glanced once more at the memorial, shrugging, "I never did like history lessons, but I think everyone has a loved one's name written there."

Gin shifted uncomfortably, allowing the silence to stretch in the seconds that followed. He considered falsely pretending to care. Consistently enough in the past, he had been fully capable of striking a smile and nodding his head in an effort to appear interested and amicable—for the sake of moving up both Soul Society's and Aizen's ladder of prestige. In this new world, however, he didn't have the motivation to act like the good guy. His masks had been donned for a purpose—without that purpose, what point was there in pretending?

He had seen the way both Naruto and Sakura had been preoccupied with their past. Something had run amiss in their lives—something that they inevitably couldn't change. But Gin had had his own share of problems, and his story hadn't particularly ended well either. He didn't think he could handle anymore moping—not when he hadn't even been able to sufficiently lament his own misdoings.

However Naruto did something that Gin didn't expect. He grinned—as if all his pain were nothing, as if he could carry the world—and pulled out a kunai. "We didn't come here to talk about old grannies did we?"

"Nope," Gin concurred, raising a brow in curious respect.

"Right!" the young shinobi nodded, his old energy returning in one fluid motion. He tossed the kunai to Gin, "Take this!"

The handle of the kunai, though much smaller than that of Shinsou, felt comfortingly familiar. Gin thumbed it, testing the surface and its scope, and held it up to the light with narrowing eyes.

"This is ancient," he mumbled. He was trying to remember what century humans had used them; he certainly hadn't ever had the need, although—now that he thought about it—Soi Fon had been known to handle one a time or two. "But I guess it'll have t' do."

"It isn't a sword," Naruto confirmed, "but I just what to see if you can keep up. We'll just spar for now."

Gin huffed softly, "One arm is all I need."

"I figured as much," the future Hokage laughed lightly, spinning his own kunai on one finger until it came to rest firmly in his grip. "Let's give it a go then?"

Gin grinned, opening his eyes slightly until the light of dusk made then shine like mid-winter icicles. Finally, after all the strange occurrences since his death, he felt an exhilarating rush, a questionless call, resounding and brilliant as it swirled within him like carrion acknowledging its food—endless, boundless, demanding. Finally something familiar, something true, something that gave him a sense of himself.

He was the essence of battle—a conglomeration of colliding energies—a man destined to tell his story with a sword.

And as Naruto charged, his speed unlike anything Gin could have predicted, the Shinigami bore the fangs of the snake, garnered the instinct of a fox; he let go. There was no longer Sakura, no longer Rangiku, no longer Shinsou. There was only the here. The now. The blade in his hand. The opponent before him.

And the reverberating drive for battle as their blades met in a metallic song of approval.

* * *

"Sooooo," Ino drawled, "tell me everything!"

Sakura tilted her sake cup at an odd direction, watching as the contents splashed to one side. "Everything about what?"

"Gin-san!"

"Ino-pig," Sakura sighed, "there's _nothing_ to tell. He's my patient."

"You came all the way back to Konoha," Ino stated pointedly. "You can't tell me that this is some ordinary guy and expect me to believe it."

_One could have hoped, _Sakura thought briefly. Ino might not have been the best of the Rookie 9, but she hadn't survived this long on sheer luck. Shinobi had to have keen insight—they had to see underneath the underneath, as Kakashi-sensei might have said once—and Ino certainly hadn't failed in _that _area. _Especially when it comes to guys._

"You're right," Sakura finally admitted. "Gin isn't an ordinary guy. But he's not what you're thinking either. There's something strange going on, Ino."

"Strange how?"

She hesitated, tapping her nail against the cup as she considered her question, "Do you believe in a life beyond?"

Ino hummed thoughtfully, "Well there has to be something, right? If Kabuto could call all those dead souls back—or whatever that jutsu was—then they had to be resting somewhere. But honestly, I haven't given it a lot of thought. I don't want to think about dying when I may not actually have that long to live. Why?"

"Do you believe in other worlds?"

"I don't know, Forehead. Sure, there could be, I guess. But _why_?" Ino asked again.

"I healed Gin after I found him in the woods and he told me a crazy story about how he'd died in some other world—in some place called Soul Society. He didn't know anything about shinobi—about our life. He didn't know about chakra. He kept talking about how he couldn't hear his sword talking to him anymore." Sakura paused, staring into her cup as if she could draw images from the past few days out of the sake itself. "And I didn't believe one word of it, really. But then stranger things happened."

Now she glanced up, expecting to meet the stare of a rather dubious looking Ino, but her friend's face was impassive.

"One night, I wandered off and was attacked," Sakura continued, recalling the coldness, the melancholy, and the pain that had come with it. "But Ino, I couldn't _see_ my attacker. He was gigantic, I'm sure. The trees were bending and snapping wherever he touched them, but he was entirely invisible. Gin later said that humans couldn't see them. He saved me from it, and eventually we killed it, but Gin _knew _what it was. It was something from his world—a bad soul. It was hard not to believe him then. He's not often serious, but when he is being serious, he seems to be telling the truth. I couldn't help but think that maybe something is happening, and maybe Gin is the answer…"

"So you brought him here…" Ino finished.

Sakura nodded, "Yeah."

"I must say Forehead," Ino whistled low, "that's one hell of a story."

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

The blonde laughed. "Come on Sakura," she chastised. "We're shinobi. We're all crazy."

Sakura snorted, finally endeavoring to down her cup in a gulp that would have made Tsunade proud. "Got that right," she said, as the alcohol's sting seemed to warm her blood. "I was just hoping to be a bit better off than most."

Ino took the liberty of refilling her friend's cup, "Well, regardless of whether or not Gin-san's story is true, I owe him."

"Oh?"

Sakura's friend merely held her cup in the air. "A toast," she said, smiling knowingly, "to Gin-san."

"For what?"

Ino giggled softly, "You've gotten denser, Forehead."

"You've become more cryptic," Sakura grumbled, finally raising her own cup.

"A toast to Gin-san," her friend repeated, "for bringing you back to Konoha."

Before Sakura could say anything more, Ino knocked their cups together and regarded her seriously, "For bringing you _home_."

* * *

Naruto ducked as Gin struck out with his kunai, clipping a few hairs in the process. With a subtle toss of his wrist, the shinobi flipped himself into the air and drove forward with his own weapon, aiming for the weak point at Gin's shoulder. Gin, however, was prepared and he negated the attack, driving it off course with a well-timed step to the side. Before Naruto could regain his footing, the Shinigami had danced into position, propelling himself backwards to put some distance between them.

Gin felt his breath escaping in a steady rhythm as he eyed the confident blond with a critical stare. Sweat had begun to bead its way along his forehead and he felt the slow descent of a rogue drop trickling its way towards his chin.

Naruto was difficult to read, he decided. The boy had an uncanny amount of stamina and seemed particularly unconcerned with trying to decipher Gin's tactics—not that Gin played by a particular set of rules to begin with. _He rushes in like an untrained pup, but somehow knows exactly what he's doing._

Gin had years of fighting experience; he didn't doubt that he had at least a century's worth of training under his belt that Naruto didn't have, but it almost didn't seem to matter. Naruto never once doubted himself. _He reminds me of Kurosaki Ichigo,_ Gin decided with a small amount of nostalgia. Ichigo had always seemed to swing his zanpakutou around like a wooden stick; he had—in Gin's opinion—lacked the finesse and the discipline of a swordsman, but somehow had always managed to beat his way through his enemies regardless.

Naruto knew the kunai; he knew how to use it properly—to throw, to maim, to puncture—but he didn't share a soul with it the way a Shinigami shared their lives with their swords.

_But then again, _Gin thought, tightening his grip on the kunai when he saw Naruto's muscles shifting,_ who th' hell'd wanna share anything with this crap anyway?_

They rushed forward again and Gin cursed the size of his weapon. A sword—even his wakizashi—was more practical for close-range fighting, and as he struck out, aiming for the silver of Naruto's forehead protector, he started to formulate a plan.

Counting in his head, he waited for Naruto to begin his defensive attack. As predicted, the blond used his own kunai to deflect it, driving Gin's kunai towards the left.

The Shinigami smirked with satisfaction as he felt his arm drifting in the direction in which his opponent had repelled it. Quickly, Gin flipped the kunai backwards, running it along the bones of his knuckles, and spun it into his index finger until it changed directions, facing sideways instead. He then forced his right arm to move, grimacing as it seemed to creak beneath his flesh in protestation.

The movement caught Naruto's eye and he shifted his attention to Gin's folded right fist, twisting in preparation for a punch.

But Gin surprised him, halting his arm halfway, and instead shifted his weight to the left, driving the almost forgotten kunai forward towards his opponent's throat.

Naruto's eyes widened as the kunai pierced his flesh.

And then disappeared into a cloud of smoke, leaving only a log in his stead.

Gin frowned in confusion, allowing his eyes to dart from side to side as he stopped moving all together. He felt the steadiness of the breeze and memorized it, waiting for it to waver.

A rush of air above his right shoulder gave him enough forewarning to dart sideways as the shadow of Naruto's kunai struck his former position. It pierced the earth with a hard thud as Gin landed lightly on one knee some distance away. He narrowed his eyes, searching the air for his opponent. Within two beats of his heart, he was forced to spin onto his foot, momentarily resting his balance in the air until his kunai met the solid edge of Naruto's which had been previously aimed for his back.

The two opponents locked eyes, their focus almost outside the realm of Konoha. They were no longer fighting in the meadow beneath the pastels of dusk. They were on the battlefield in their minds, acting and reacting on instinct alone, living and breathing in a realm that had no life and death—only the silent conversation between two men whose hearts beat with every blow.

Naruto flipped backwards, using a handspring to add power, and focused on Gin from the air. His opponent was now semi-crouching, kunai resting protectively in front of him as he seemed to take in the whole of Naruto's movements in one quick glance. It was discerning, the way that Gin stared and smiled. The way his eyes lit with a fire that had seen years of blood and betrayal.

It was a stare much like Sasuke's, Naruto thought momentarily. Apathy and revenge. One driven by power and secrets.

_Who is this man?_

Gin pitched the kunai into the air, hoping to drive Naruto to the ground, and started forward, focusing all the energy into his feet as if using Shunpo. Something answered from within, he realized after the first step; the ground was moving much faster than he expected when he moved lightly behind Naruto in time to catch his weapon. The rush he felt was an old feeling, ancient it seemed, as the air settled around him and time finally caught up.

_Fast!_ Naruto thought, briefly surprised, when Gin launched himself once more at him and their weapons cried out shrilly upon impact. _He's getting faster, but how?_

Gin moved like a machine, accustomed to the battle-feelings, the empowerment that came with restrained control over a ferocious desire. He had survived years this way, by being careful, by scheming a large scheme without actually overseeing the details. One goal. It was all he had ever needed and he had seen it to the end.

The weapon was an extension of himself—Shinsou or not—and he fed it his energy, his fighting spirit, as if gifting it with his soul. He could hear it crying in its own voice, even if it didn't have concrete words, and he couldn't help but answer. It drove him on, pushed him past his limits, demanding everything that he was. Duel or not, he would win. He _had _to win.

Naruto blocked his next attack too, but Gin was driving the young shinobi backwards. The confident smile of his opponent had been replaced with concentration. Naruto lashed out at an angle, hoping to catch Gin in a blind spot, but the Shinigami countered the attack without even looking at it.

_Amazing! He doesn't actually rely on sight. _Naruto admired as Gin blocked a follow-up attack and switched to the offensive. _Then I wonder…_

The blond skipped forward, leaping above Gin to get away. Quickly he formed the familiar hand seal, focusing his chakra, and before his opponent could cut him off, shouted quickly: "Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!"

Gin came to a rough halt as three replicas of Naruto poofed into existence, armed and ready to fight.

_Kage-no-wha'? _

"That's cheatin'," the former Shinigami complained lightly.

One of the Naruto's laughed, "Shinobi have no rules!"

"I ain't a shinobi," Gin reminded him, crouching once again, but his own smile had yet to disappear.

The Narutos charged, dividing their approach from four separate paths. Gin decided to maintain a steady distance, knowing that fighting all four with one arm would be a difficult task. He skipped backwards a few steps as their speed increased, but still the distance between them rapidly closed. The first one struck and Gin used his strength to push the clone back, hoping to throw it off balance, but before he could follow through, the next one was aiming for his ribs, forcing the Shinigami to block and allowing the other Naruto to duck to safety. The third one was at his back and Gin could feel the air behind him almost evaporate as it gave way to the kunai in the clone's hand. Without thinking, Gin tossed his own weapon to his right hand, using his good arm to strike the attacking Naruto's shoulder and redirect his projected aim.

The next one, however, was attacking once again from the front and Gin barely managed to raise his kunai in time to avert the attack. He inhaled sharply as his arm went rigid with pain. _Move! _he thought almost desperately. _Move, damn it!_

It took the last of its strength to ward off the blow and Gin watched helplessly as his hand involuntarily dropped the kunai.

Cursing silently, Gin jumped from out of the cluster of Narutos, leaving his weapon behind. They followed him ruthlessly, but he kept moving, hopping into the trees of the nearby forest. The pain in his arm hadn't subsided and he could only imagine the lashing Sakura would give him when she found out he'd pushed it too far.

_Guess I've got bigger problems for now, _he rationalized. He could still feel the four Narutos giving chase and without the kunai he was defenseless. _I've gotta find a weapon._

He reached instinctively for the hilt of Shinsou, frowning as his hand met nothing but air. _Damn that good for nothin'…_

But his thoughts were interrupted as he emerged into another clearing. Without the trees providing shelter, he was an open target.

Not wanting to give Naruto the advantage of a direct approach, Gin backtracked and dashed back into the forest. He tried to remember the feel of the chakra he had summoned that night when demonstrating for Sakura. What had he learned? The feel of it. The sound of it. The way it seemed, in some way, as melded with him as Shinsou had been. Yes, he had been able to summon it, to wield it fleetingly like a well-trained shinobi. Since that night, however, he hadn't tried to do it again.

There was so much more to this life force, he knew, he just didn't know what.

_That's why I wanted t' fight this kid,_ he reminded himself, slowing down once he sensed that he would soon be upon his foes.

He concentrated on pushing his chakra towards his hand. If he focused hard enough, Gin could feel it within him; he'd become more accustomed to the feel of it since awakening on the forest floor. There he had felt distanced and deaf—an outsider—but now he could sense chakra in a way he had yet to sense it before. In his desperation, Gin felt it more like a pulse, racing and coursing through his veins, bleeding like an intoxicating brand of alcohol.

The first Naruto came into sight. _He ain't playin' fair anyway,_ Gin thought without an ounce of hesitation as his hand began to exude a low sizzling sound. With a bit of extra force, he pushed himself from a tree limb, enhancing his speed, until he was a mere breath from colliding with Naruto's kunai. At the last second, Gin lifted his hand, ducking under his opponent's weapon, and struck out with all the power he could muster. The blow smacked a surprised Naruto in the stomach, where the former sizzling of Gin's hand transformed a low discordant whine.

Naruto grabbed his stomach, his face contorted in pain, and fell to the ground with a hard thud. Within seconds he disappeared.

_One down, _Gin thought with satisfaction.

But he couldn't gloat long. Two more Naruto's hurled themselves from the shadows of the trees and immediately engaged him in battle. This time, however, they watched his fist, dodging quickly when the need arose, only to advance from a different angle after they had evaded Gin's blows.

_How d' they know already? _Gin wondered; he was sure they hadn't seen his technique. _Did he gather information from th' clone when it died?_

One of the Naruto's shoved his kunai forward, causing Gin to jump back to avoid the strike, however, before he could maneuver his way to a more advantageous position, he was intercepted by the thick bark of a tree. As the second one approached from the side, Gin was forced to evacuate; he leapt towards the forest floor and sprinted through the brush upon landing.

The thorns of vines ripped at his skin, but Gin couldn't feel it. His body was nearly shaking with adrenaline, drunk on the rush of energy that he had not felt in years. Fighting Aizen had been a rush, sure, but it had been completely different. It had been life or death. Failure or success.

This… well, this was just fun.

At the base of a relatively thick tree, Gin paused briefly, glancing over his shoulder to see if the coast was clear. He couldn't see any trace of Naruto, but he didn't allow himself to relax. One wrong move, one false moment of security. That would be all it took to end of the fight.

The slight whistle of a falling object was the only thing to alert him to the incoming attack from above. He jumped from his cover as Naruto's impact sent the soft soil raining in all directions; the nearby trees quaked at the sudden disturbance, showering them with fresh leaves.

Gin knew that he was losing his opportunities; the longer the battle continued, the weaker he grew from fatigue. His most recent bout with death had been a taxing ordeal—and the switching of worlds hadn't been exactly a refreshing experience either.

As the three remaining Narutos regrouped, Gin tried to concoct a plan. In Soul Society, this had never posed a problem; he'd simply made things up as he went along, using his reiatsu like a third hand. He hadn't had to concentrate on summoning it; he hadn't had to discuss with his sword how best to go about the situation. He had simply done what he'd always done—left his enemies guessing until he could find a weakness and then crushed them.

Gin didn't doubt that the same scenario could come in handy again, but in this particular dual, things weren't panning out in the same fashion. After all, it wasn't another Shinigami he was fighting; it wasn't a Hollow either.

_I'm fightin' a human—a ninja._

A human with enough power to overcome him.

Gin liked to play the fool, but it didn't mean he was one. Naruto could have probably killed him ten times over with chakra—had he chosen to _really _use it. Playing around with the kunai and fighting multiple Narutos—even the escape technique he'd used earlier—did not qualify as a high-end battle. Even with the poisoned chakra, Gin still new he was lacking both techniques and control.

He was backed against another tree, trying to break through the defense of a _bunshin_—or what he assumed was a _bunshin_. Gin flipped forward, trying to get behind it, but the clone suddenly grabbed his good arm in mid-air and twisted him back, forcing him to yield. The Shiniami was on the verge of using his right arm—despite his injury—to break away, when he heard a rather disturbing and sinister sound from his left. Glancing over, he saw that his opponent—the real one, he figured—was racing at him, a ball of brightly swirling blue chakra summoned in his hand.

_That doesn't look good… _

Gin instinctively dropped lower, disrupting the clone's center of gravity so that he could gather enough power to smash him against a tree trunk. The _bunshin_ yelped in pain, but Gin didn't have time to see if he'd officially rid himself of it. Now that he was free, he dashed onto a higher branch, knowing that the real Naruto would chase him. As Naruto leapt up, Gin used the strength of his uninjured arm to swing underneath the branch, supporting himself with his hand as he hung in the air. Before the blond could change directions, Gin spun himself back up, leaning against the tree trunk as he breathed deeply.

The blue ball had faded from Naruto's hand in the intermittent time and he too landed on the branch, gracing Gin with one of his goofy grins while the last of his clones popped out of existence.

"You're pretty good at taijutsu," Naruto commended. "You barely used your chakra."

"I ain't all that familiar with chakra," Gin admitted. "Can't make th' clones like you did."

"When I was in the Ninja Academy, I couldn't even do a normal bunshin," the shinobi said with a slight grimace. "If you train, you could learn all of it. Although it seems you _do_ know more than you claim."

"Th' poison?" Gin guessed.

Naruto nodded, his interest piqued, "I've never seen a poison technique before."

"I didn't know I could do it 'til a few days ago."

"What! No way!"

Gin glanced away, noting that the sun had completely set, "I told ya already. I ain't a shinobi."

"Yeah, but…" Naruto paused and regarded Gin more thoroughly. "Do you think you'll become one now?"

"What for?" the Shinigami scoffed. "I just wanna learn how to use chakra. If I'm gonna be stuck here, then I might as well be good at it."

For a moment, the blond seemed a bit perplexed; perhaps he had never imagined a day that he _wouldn't _be a shinobi. "Well," he said finally, "I'll always spar with you if you need to practice."

"Of course," Gin agreed, though his smile didn't reach his eyes.

Naruto sighed tiredly, collapsing onto the branch, "Man, I'm exhausted. The old lady keeps me out on missions all the time now."

Gin didn't know who the 'old lady' was or what 'missions' were, but he didn't feel like listening to the explanations. Considering the course of recent events, he figured he would find out soon enough—whether he wanted to or not. Instead, he focused his attention on other things, reviewing the battle in his mind as he attempted to piece together what he had seen while fighting with Naruto. Hand signs were important, he deduced, in that they seemed to signify which technique would be used. However, some techniques didn't require seals—like Sakura's healing or even his own.

"What was th' blue ball of—" Gin paused, pondering. "I'll presume it was some kinda chakra?"

"Rasengan," the shinobi replied proudly. "My father's legacy."

"How does it work?"

"Well—uhh—I'm not so good at technical things," Naruto grinned, sheepishly rubbing a hand through his hair. "Depending on which Rasengan I'm using, I have either one or two clones who help balance out the power and rotation. I dunno how to explain it really, I'd have to show you."

Gin quirked a brow, his eyes spreading into thin lines, "It doesn't require the hand seals?"

The blond nodded, "Nope. It was designed to be used quickly, so that the seals wouldn't be needed."

There were a million other questions that Gin could have asked at that moment, but his thoughts were interrupted when Naruto's stomach rumbled like distant thunder, "Damn I'm starving. Do you want to get ramen?"

"Didn't ya just eat ramen?"

But Naruto was no longer listening. He had already stood in preparation to leave, beckoning for Gin to follow.

The Shinigami shook his head, "I ain't really a fan of ramen. You go ahead."

"C'mon," Naruto begged, "it'll be better than going back to Sakura's house. Do you even know where it is?"

"Nope."

"I can show you," he offered.

"Gimme a second then," Gin acquiesced. "I've gotta find the kunai I dropped. I'll meet ya back at the memorial stone."

"Okay!" Naruto replied, forming another specific set of seals while Gin watched carefully, memorizing them. "See ya there then."

Then the shinobi disappeared in a swirl of leaves.

* * *

When Gin found the KIA stone, the moon was looming overhead and a thick breeze wafted through the forest clearing, rattling the leaves. Glancing up towards the sky, he allowed his gaze to linger on the stars and wondered briefly if Soul Society was somewhere beyond the blackness.

"Took you long enough," Naruto complained from his reclined position on the ground. "I was beginning to think you were lost."

He hadn't been in a particular hurry after Naruto's departure, so he had simply wandered, slowly making his way back to his original starting point—even after he'd found the kunai. He had wanted to think, to put together the puzzle of chakra. His brain had always worked that way—playing around with the things he saw until they all just clicked.

"Sorry," Gin lied. "I was thinkin'."

He came to stand in front of the stone, glancing casually at it as if it held no interest for him. After all, what answers would come from a bunch of dead ninjas' names?

However, despite his flippant attitude, Gin was actually reading the list. He recalled the way Naruto had been staring at it that afternoon, his hand resting on a particular name. Though Gin didn't typically involve himself in other peoples' problems, a rather peculiar intrigue had seized him.

He had inferred from their encounter at the ramen restaurant that Sakura and Naruto shared a common loss, though both of them were decidedly tight-lipped about it. Normally that wouldn't have bothered him, but Gin wanted to know a bit more of just _what _had happened in the shinobi world to create a rift that had brought him there in the first place. Certainly it couldn't have just been a fluke—that strange hollow or his own existence—to have somehow escaped death.

He didn't know _how _or _what_ had caused a temporary binding of two worlds—or created a gateway—but Gin couldn't imagine that Aizen was the only underlying factor.

Despite all of Aizen's careful plotting, his ingenious plans, Gin had always been a wildcard.

And Aizen hadn't known that this world existed.

Gin's eyes narrowed. He remembered the previous shadows gracing the surface of the now moonlit stone—the way they had danced over it. He remembered the faraway look in Naruto's eyes before he had finally noticed his presence.

And there, as the moon lit the memorial in a halo of silver light, Gin felt the gears turning in his mind. He felt the hairs on his neck stand in warning as he unconsciously clutched the kunai tighter in his hand. Because something in that name spoke volumes, something cautioned him—and he didn't know what.

That name:

_Uchiha Sasuke_.

It was dangerous, he sensed. Tainted. Lost.

Like him.

And Gin knew, deep down, that he would see that name again.

Though he secretly hoped that it wouldn't be any time soon.

* * *

End Note: Battles are never easy to write, no matter how simple. Though this wasn't a particularly difficult duel, I wanted to give you guys a bit of a taste of Gin's prowess as a potential shinobi (even if he himself doesn't think it's such a good idea). Please take the time to let me know what you think.


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